


Family Affairs

by filthybonnet



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber, Love Never Dies - Lloyd Weber RPF, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Automaton, Breastfeeding, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Smut, love never dies au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 49,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthybonnet/pseuds/filthybonnet
Summary: New theatre plans at Phantasma, a growing family and Gustave being precocious as ever; Christine and Mr. Y have settled into their life on Coney Island after overcoming the night she was shot on the pier. However aspects of the past, new dilemmas and Erik's constant struggle to change for the better, test their domestic bliss.





	1. Mother's Milk

**Author's Note:**

> In my Love Never Dies AU Christine survives the shooting at the end of Love Never Dies. While she recovers, Raoul gets everything secured for a divorce and once it is finalized, Christine and Mr. Y get married shortly after.

Despite the hat pin and satin bow adhering it under her chin, Christine Daae felt as if the ocean breeze was going to send her new summer hat down the board walk. It already tossed the hem of her blue linen skirt up to her calves exposing her embroidered stockings. Not that it mattered. After a divorce from the Vicomte and marriage to Phatasma’s Mr. Y all covered on Page Six, Christine’s reputation was already ruined And yet in America no one seemed to care. Her performances sold out and she and Mr. Y were invited to impressive parties; parties they would have never seen back in Paris.

Gustave ran impatiently several feet, against his mother’s demands, in front of the whicker promenade baby carriage with its large sun guard up, which she pushed. She looked up from the sleeping baby to scan the crowd for her son.

“Mother we can get ice cream right?” Gustave jumped up and down and waved his arms.

As she pushed the carriage up to her son, she sighed seeing he already had an ice cream cone, “I am going to have to talk to your father. You cannot keep having free reign over the park.”

“But I’m the Young Mister. Father said this whole park will be mine someday.” Gustave spoke in-between licks.

“You have a sister to share with now, remember?”

The boy looked down at the baby, “Charlotte doesn’t do much. Are all babies like that?”

“Yes at first, including you,” Christine giggled as she wiped ice cream off the tip of Gustave’s nose.

Christine froze as her stomach tightened in dread; just a few feet in front of them were some people from the press. Her afternoon stroll was ruined. She quickly moved her hands to the baby and adjusted the bonnet as tightly as she could and pulled the blanket up high. In response Charlotte stirred and fussed a little.

“Miss Daae! Miss Daae!” One of the press men approached her. “May we have a word? Congratulations on your fantastic season debut the other night. I see you are out with a baby carriage. Is this why you did not close last season? This is the first we are seeing or hearing of such news!”

There was the familiar sound of flash paper going off behind the reporter.

“My husband and I may be public figures, but that does not mean our family affairs are public,” Christine spoke with as much dignity as she could muster. “Now if you would please, enjoy the many amenities Phantasma has to offer while I do the same on my day off.”

*******

The gas light was dim but Christine was still able to sleep lightly reclined in the chaise lounge next to Charlotte’s bassinette. The buttons of her nightgown were still undone and the top of her dressing robe untied, all showing her right breast was still exposed even though Charlotte had been fed, soothed and was now back asleep in the bassinette.

The bedroom door opened just enough for Mr. Y to enter, close and lock it behind him. “Angel,” he whispered as he walked over to her. He knelt down and caressed her cheek before softly drawing a circle around her exposed swollen breast. He continued his circle before lifting his lanky finger and circling her areola. It was currently brownish pink instead of the soft pink it usually was. The changes her body had gone through during and post pregnancy were a curiosity to him.

The doctor told him he was not to be in the room when the baby was born; that men cannot handle seeing their wife in such a state. He felt his arms wanting to go around the man’s throat. From the bed, Christine grabbed Erik’s hand and then looked at the doctor, “My husband almost saw me die from a gunshot, he can stay.” It was an intense several hours and when Charlotte arrived…

Mr. Y brought his mouth down to her breast and circled the sensitive nipple with his tongue. Christine stirred and whimpered. He opened his mouth wider latching on completely over the areola; he pulled and sucked, milk seeping from her nipple into his mouth. The Soprano slowly lifted her lids and moaned softly as she lifted her fingers to her husband’s wig.

“The mask is still on too I see,” she observed, voice husky with sleep running her fingers down to his neck, where she pulled at his ascot. “Someone was in a hurry.”

He drank for another minute or two; so thick, heavy and sweet and least to him. Mother’s milk yet another thing he was denied and yet should not have expected his wife to give him. It started as an accident. In one of their first sessions of love making after Charlotte’s birth, he went for her breast as he always did. Just a squeeze; Christine gasped and liquid oozed from the sensitive chaffed skin.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” Erik jumped from the bed. Wrapping his dressing robe around his night shirt doing the best he could to conceal his throbbing erection; he spent a restless night in the old bedroom attached to his workroom. And the doctor was worried he couldn’t handle the birth. Why did no one warn him about this? The next time they tried to make love Christine observed how painfully obvious Erik avoided her breasts. “Erik, please,” She took his face into her hands and brought it to her left breast. “It’s okay, I want you to, I miss your mouth.”

He pulled away, her plush breast sagging back into place as a last few drops leaked from her nipple and some trickled down Erik’s chin. Christine giggled as she wiped it away with her fingers. His shoulders heaved as he sighed, “That was delightful as always. Thank you, Angel. And I wouldn’t say I was in a hurry. I had to stay late tonight and I didn’t want to make you wait a second longer. You already look so exhausted.”

“Gustave was a handful today on the boardwalk. You need to stop spoiling him so much. Don’t let the vendors give him anything until I give them permission. They shouldn’t fear the wrath of Mr. Y for denying his son.”

A dubious grin played his puffy lips, “I am only spoiling him the way his mother spoils his father. Besides, I am not that man anymore. The boy is just charming.” He leaned over and kissed her and she opened her mouth nibbling on his bloated bottom lip, smiling into it. Erik kissed down her neck as she lifted her legs, bending them at the knee, dressing and night gowns falling between her legs.

“I see someone isn’t too exhausted,” Mr. Y mumbled into her neck.

“Lull me back to sleep, Angel,” Christine murmred into his ear.

Eager hands pushed layers of fabric up bare legs, revealing his wife wore no pantalettes. “Ah Christine…Christine…” He ran his long middle finger between her folds, slow and gentle collecting her juices. He then latched back onto her breast as his finger now circled her swollen pleasure mound.

“Ahhh…” She sighed softly arching up off the chaise lounge. He could tell she was trying to be quite for the sake of the baby.

Erik hummed as he drunk her milk, smiled to himself as Christine finally lost herself and whimpered at her usual volume when he slipped two fingers in her wet and warm womanhood. However, he paused for a few seconds and when no sound came from the bassinette, he rubbed that spot that made her sing.

He found joy in the pleasure he saw contorted on Christine’s face and as it melted away as he felt her paroxysm constrict and release around his fingers. As she sunk back onto the chaise lounge, he removed both his fingers and mouth from her body. His erection throbbed but he did not dare disturb the heaving bosom, closed eyes, smile and glowing aura that came from his satiated wife.

The Phantom pulled the quilt from their bed and wrapped it around her body. “Sleep tight, Angel.” He kissed her forehead before heading to his old bedroom as not to disturb her.


	2. Marked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references something mentioned in my phic "No Coffee." It's a one shot of 518 words if you want to read it. However you don't need to read it to understand this chapter. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456009

The applause continued to be thunderous as Christine Daae headed down the backstage corridors to her dressing room. Once in the room her dresser went to work unlacing the red top of her costume as the Diva bent over her vanity removing her gloves, necklace and earrings. Once free of the top Christine sat down on the vanity stool. “Thank you, Anne,” She smiled at her dresser as the woman hung up the top.

A minute later another woman walked out from another part of the dressing room holding a bundle of blankets, “Mother is back.”

“And how was she, Mary?” Christine took her daughter from their nanny.

The young girl rocked on her heels, “She was getting fussy so I checked her diaper but she was clean. I rocked her but that didn’t help. I was worried she was hungry but… If I may speak freely, Madame, you keep her bonnet too tight and after I loosened it a little and she stopped fussing.”

Christine’s face drained of color, “You loosened her bonnet?” She looked down at her daughter and saw it hung freer but everything was okay. The little baby smiled up at her and Christine sighed. Charlotte grabbed at her mother’s breast so Christine unbuttoned her chemise and the baby latched right away.

“Well I guess she was hungry,” The Diva smiled at her daughter as the little fingers still grabbed at her as she fed. “And is Gustave still training with the gymnasts?”

“Yes Madame.”

There was a knock at the dressing room door before it opened revealing Mr. Y in his afternoon tux, a newspaper in his hand, his eyes wild. “Anne, Mary if you’ll excuse us; I need a word with my wife.”

Both women curtsied before shuffling out of the room closing the door behind them.

“Erik, there was no need to be so rude,” Christine looked at her husband’s reflection in the mirror. She pulled Charlotte away from her breast and closed up her chemise.

He dropped the newspaper down on the vanity opened to a specific page: there was the picture of Christine with the baby carriage and Gustave on the boardwalk from yesterday. “What is the meaning of our family affairs not being public? Several people saw you big with child! You were pushing a baby carriage; you could have at least acknowledged our daughter!”

“I wasn’t going to pull her out and put her on display!” Charlotte laid stomach against her mother’s chest as The Diva patted her back.

Erik took a deep breath, his fists balled at his sides, “And why not? Are you ashamed of this?” He pulled the bonnet off his daughter and revealed on her bald head above her left ear there was some Aplasia Cutis Congenita. There was also two parallel horizontal strips of it on her left cheek and an oval Port Wine Stain on the back of her neck. “You got lucky with Gustave! But now you have real evidence you have copulated with a monster! I refuse to make her wear that bonnet anymore!” The Phantom pulled his daughter from Christine’s arms and held her tight. “My mother put a mask on me from the moment I was born! How dare you do something similar to our child! You knew it would break my heart!”

He sat down on the couch, tore off his mask and wig before smiling at his daughter, tears running down his cheeks. “You see, Charlotte you look just like papa. You will never have to wear anything to conceal yourself unless you want to.” He kissed her head softly and she grabbed onto his finger.

Christine sighed as she got up and walked over and sat down beside her husband, “Erik, forgive me. I wasn’t hiding her on purpose, nor am I ashamed of her. I believe our daughter is beautiful.” She caressed the disfigured side of his face. “And when are you going to stop calling yourself a monster? I love you, Erik. I chose you and our wonderful life. If I wanted the perfect façade I would have stayed with Raoul and continued to die on the inside. I know how cruel the world can be; I’ve seen firsthand how they reacted to you. You still wear your mask and wig in public. I am just trying to protect Charlotte in the same way. If they see her will they not act the same? Will they then wonder what is behind your mask as her father?”

Mr. Y chuckled to himself, “They already do, my dear.” He lifted Charlotte up to his face and covered her cheeks in kisses, “Tell mama no more bonnet in the house, no more bonnet on Phantasma property.” The infant cooed at him. “Also tell mama to finish changing out of her costume. We’re going for a walk along ocean before her next show and papa’s just going to carry you. Carriage wheels are useless in sand.”

As they walked the beach, Mr. Y wore his mask and wig and Charlotte wore her bonnet. Sun protection, Christine insisted as she tied on her own hat. Despite this, Erik had never felt so free. And Christine understood just how important it was for their children to be seen. It was validation; the validation of parental love he never received.

He sent the nanny and Christine’s dresser home for the evening and waited in her dressing room while she performed. Charlotte slept in her wooden rocking bassinet, Erik and Gustave sat on the floor next to her; Gustave reading a book of fairy tales to his father.

“Gustave,” Erik interrupted his son. “You see how your sister looks more like me and you look more like your mother?”

“Yes.”

“And you know how scared you were the first time you saw me without my mask?”

“Yes. And I was wrong, Papa.”

“You know people will have the same response to Charlotte someday.”

The boy looked over at his sleeping sister. “That’s not fair. She can’t help it.”

“We know that, but the world is so vicious. Remember how we always discuss how we see the beauty underneath?”

The boy nodded.

Erik wrapped his arm around his son, “Well that’s going to be your sister. And remember when we first informed you that you were going to be a big brother and you asked if you had to do anything? You are going to have to be strong for Charlotte and defend her when people are cruel just because she looks different. Do you think you can do that, Gustave?”

The boy looked over at the sleeping baby again and smiled, “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Charlotte's deformities, I referenced the art link below that detailed possible birth defects of Webber's Phantom based on the original make up. I did not give her everything her father has or to the extreme he has them, noting our modern understanding genetics and chromosomes and that Christine's would cancel out some of his. Yes, I realize this isn't perfect or exact but this is fiction. The odds of one man having all of these and surviving to adulthood in the 1800s is like zero anyway. 
> 
> https://img00.deviantart.net/eec3/i/2015/108/9/f/diagnosis__opera_ghost__alw_edition__by_silverdrgnbane-d7afl0z.jpg


	3. Comfort and Satisfaction

Screams from down the hall jolted Erik from his slumber. Within a few seconds they were followed by cries from the bassinet. Erik lit the oil lamp on his nightstand as Christine stirred, “I had just fallen back to sleep, and a nice sleep.”

“I believe our son is having another night terror. I’ll be back.” Slippers on his feet, Erik wrapped his dark blue robe around his lithe frame. He grabbed the oil lamp and headed down the hall to Gustave’s room.

“Charlotte please…mama would like to sleep. Your brother wasn’t half as fussy,” Christine mumbled to herself as she rubbed her eyes. Using only the moonlight she stumbled to the bassinet and removed the crying infant and rocked her.

Mr. Y turned the handle on his son’s room and opened it, “Gustave! Gustave!” As he moved towards the bed the lamp revealed the boy thrashing on the bed, knotted up in his covers. He screamed again as Erik sat the oil lamp next to the one on the night stand. “Gustave! Gustave, please, it’s Papa! Papa is here!” He ran his fingers through his son’s hair, massaging the scalp till the boy stopped moving.

His eye flew open and he gasped for breath, “Papa! I’m not going to make it to the water closet!” He tugged and pulled, trying to free himself from his blankets.

“You’ll be fine,” Erik reached from under the bed and removed a chamber pot. He lifted the ceramic lid and sat it on the floor beside the pot.

“Oh thank you, Papa!” Gustave then jumped off the bed as his father pulled the sheets away in one quick motion. The boy sighed as he relieved himself; Erik looked away to give him a bit of privacy.

When he heard the lid go back on, he turned back to his son, “Put it back under the bed, you can empty it in the morning when the light is better.” He lit the other oil lamp and remade the bed, “Now lay back down and tell me about your nightmare.” Erik crawled under the covers with his son and held him tight.

“Mama was on the dock dying blood everywhere but…but Charlotte was there and father…well Mr. de Chagny and he was laughing at Charlotte. I kept yelling at him, ‘Father stop! Father stop!’ and he wouldn’t. And I…” The boy cried, his tears dampening his father’s robe.

“I’m here Gustave, I’m here,” His deformed lips kissed the top of the boy’s head. “And Mama’s is quite alive; Charlotte is okay.”

“When will I stop having these nightmares, papa?”

Erik rubbed his hand up and down Gustave’s back trying to soothe him. “I don’t know but I know this, don’t be ashamed. I used to have nightmares too and my parents never came to see if I was okay. I was scared, alone but you will never be; you’ll always have mama and me…” He paused and took a deep breath, “and even Mr. de Chagny was a good father to you before I was in your life. Just remember those horrible dreams aren’t real. When you wake up you are the Young Mister of Phantasma where everything that is unusual is beautiful!”

“Mom says I have share Phantasma now with Charlotte,” Gustave pouted.

Mr. Y arched his good eyebrow, “Is that so? Well we will just see about that.” He crawled out of the covers and then tucked Gustave back in. “Do you feel better? Do you think you can get back to sleep? Do you want me to leave your lamp burning?”

“Yes please.”

“Now get some sleep and you can come work with me tomorrow.”

The boy sat up, eyes wide and a smile on his face, “You promise, Papa?”

“Yes. Pleasant dreams, Gustave,” Erik kissed his son on the forehead before picking up his oil lamp. Door closed he returned to the master bedroom.

In the soft glow of the lamp, Christine laid on her side, her dark curls a halo on the pillows, Charlotte cradled in her arm that rested on the bed. The child suckled at her breast as her little hands held onto Christine’s finger.

She looked up from the infant to her husband, “Next time you feed Charlotte and I comfort Gustave.”

“If I could I would, Angel,” Erik leaned over and kissed her. “You look beautiful.”

“Would you mind terribly if I hired a wet nurse?” Christine observed her husband has he removed his dressing room and hung it foot post of their bed.

His face twisted in terror, “A wet nurse?! Oh Christine, really?” He removed his slippers before crawling into the bed behind her. Showering her neck in kisses his eyes did no leave Charlotte’s little face. “Did you use a wet nurse with Gustave?”

“No, but I wasn’t performing at the time.”

“She needs her mother. More importantly I want her to have her mother,” Erik reached his arm over his wife and caressed his daughter’s cheek.

“But you also want her mother to sing for you. What about what her mother wants?” The Soprano lifted his hand from the baby’s face and took it into her’s. 

“And what does my Christine want?” The Phantom asked in-between kisses on her neck and shoulder. “She has made me the happiest man in the world. Happiness to which I am not worthy. I am working on a new song for you. Do you want to hear the melody?”

Not waiting for an answer, The Phantom leaned his lips against her ear and softly hummed. The Soprano eyes fluttered shut and she sighed. He knew he could seduce her time and time again with his music and she hated him for it. She hated herself for it. Just beneath the baby’s mouth Christine felt her heart pound, she curled her toes and squeezed her husband’s hand tighter.

He stopped humming and nibbled on her earlobe, “What did you think? I am still working on it. I might add some more layers.” He propped himself up, leaned over and turned his head to meet his wife’s lips. She moaned as she slipped her tongue passed his large lips. However, it wasn’t until she felt Erik’s free hand bundling the linen of her nightgown, pulling it up past her thighs that she registered her wanton actions.

“Erik stop! Have some decency! I’m feeding our daughter! What you want me to do!” She let go of his hand and lightly slapped the good side of his face. 

“Oh don’t tease me, Christine,” Pulling up his night shirt, he pushed his firm member into her back. “Charlotte will never know.” He pried her legs open with his knee, before adjusting his position so he could penetrate her from below and behind, “Sing for me, Christine!”

The Diva shivered and moaned the moment the tip of his cock entered her. She draped her free leg over her husband’s body giving him more access and secured Charlotte closer and tighter to her body. His thrusts were slow and deliberate as not to rock their bodies drastically and disturb their daughter. Long strides, in and out, Christine tightened her cunt around him each time he moved out, causing him to exert extra effort and enhancing pleasure for them both. He groaned into her throat. She closed her eyes, seeing nothing but flashes of light as she whimpered into the pillow. Milk leaked out of her unoccupied breast dampening her night gown.

“Now that is a waste; let me help you with that,” Mr. Y leaned over his wife’s body, pulling her other breast out. He latched on tightly, his tongue teasing her nipple in the way only a lover could.

“Oh Erik…Erik…” She whimpered. The flashes of light behind her lids expanding as she constricted tighter around his girth pushing it out as the pulsating wave of orgasm overcame her.

He followed instantly, letting out a large sigh; spilling his seed on her inner thigh.

Suddenly, both her breasts were cold and she forced her eyes open to look down. Charlotte had pulled away as well, her hands now busy in her mother’s hair. Christine chuckled to herself as she touched her forehead to her daughter’s, “I guess we’re all satisfied now.”


	4. Wet Nurse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references the one shot phic "Understudy" which can be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308094

“Place that gear right there,” Mr. Y pointed to a spot inside an automaton.

Gustave leaned over the automaton, his little fingers placing the gear exactly where his father told him to.

“Okay. Now get the rubber belt that was sitting beside that gear and wrap it around all those gears starting smallest to largest.”

Again, Gustave followed his father’s directions and then looked up at him, “Does that look right?”

He smiled at his son, “Yes it does. Now to see if it works. Do you want to do the honors? Turn the little key on the back of the neck.”

The boy walked to the front of the table where the automaton’s head rested. He turned the key and heard gears start to turn and the eyes opened, the arms lifted up.

Gustave gasped, “It’s alive! I brought it to life! Look at it, Papa!”

“Yes, you did,” Mr. Y hugged the boy and then pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time. “Alright, Gustave it is almost time for your music lessons. Let’s start to clean up.” He put the pocket watch back, turned the key on the automaton and started to organize his tools.

Gustave turned away from the work table, his father humming and engaged in his meticulous organization. He turned his attention to that blue tube always so beautiful and fascinating, yet father never opened it. He put his hand on it and it moved slightly. With all the force of his body, the boy pushed it and went running alongside it as it slid open. He then froze in place; eyes wide, his pink mouth dropped in awe, “Mother?”

“Gustave!” Erik’s voice thundered.

The boy’s eyes never left the body in the vestibule as his father grabbed him by the arm and removed him from the work room. He found himself now in the hallway, his father kneeling to be eye to eye with him. “Gustave, when you are working with me you need to follow my directions! I know this is fun for you but it is also real work! With real dangers! If you’re not going to take this seriously, I will have to leave you to your studies till you prove…”

“No father, I take this seriously!” The boy grabbed his father’s shoulders.

Erik closed his eyes and signed, letting his anger wash over him. He wasn’t going to expose his son to it. Tears in his eyes, he wrapped his arms tightly around the boy. “Of course, you do. You’re full of wonder just like me. Now I’ll race you down to the parlor!”

***

Down in the parlor, Christine sat with a young girl in a simple black linen dress, her hat and veil sat beside her on the couch, exposed her red hair. The girl held Charlotte and Christine smiled, “She already seems to like you.” It was at that moment that Charlotte started to fuss.

“It looks like you spoke too soon, Madame.”

“Well, do we want to see if she’ll latch?”

“Now, Madame?”

“I am wanting to hire you as a wet nurse. I will excuse myself for a minute,” Christine sat up from the couch walked into the hallway. From there she tucked some stray hair behind her ear and with baited breath, watched as the girl unbuttoned the front of her dress and chemise.

“Come on, little Charlotte,” The girl adjusted her breast. Charlotte fussed, her little hands grabbing at it before finally suckling. Her face lit up and then she looked up and her glance met Christine’s. “Mrs. Y, she latched.”

Christine giggled as she walked back to the red velvet couch and sat down beside the girl, “So I see.” She caressed her daughter’s cheek, “That’s a good girl, Charlotte. Do you think you could do this every time with Cathleen? And what about you, Cathleen? You can also bring your son while at work. We already have a nanny so I will not expect much more of you other than feeding.”

“That is fine, Madame. Anything is fine.”

Christine took a deep breath, “There is just one thing you should know about Charlotte. She has a few deformities and I wanted to see how well you bonded before I showed you.”

“Deformities? We’re all God’s creatures why should she be any different?”

“Let me show you what I mean,” Christine removed her daughter from the woman’s breast. Charlotte fussed but The Diva ignored it as she reached for the ties on the bonnet. However the task was quickly dismissed with noise from the hallway.

“I’m going to win!” There was a thump and a crash followed by a laugh as Gustave threw himself onto Turkish rug right at the entrance of the parlor. “And I won! Hear that! I won, Papa!”

A few seconds later, Mr. Y’s voice boomed from down the hall, “Young man, you cheated! Pushing that table into the hallway! We’ll see about…” He turned the corner to see Gustave now standing looking crestfallen at the rug, Cathleen buttoning up her blouse and Christine standing next to her son, holding the crying infant.

“Erik, what is the meaning of this? I thought Gustave was supposed to be in the workshop with you!” She rocked the baby but clearly her upset did nothing to soothe the child.

“It is time for his music lesson. I challenged him to a race to the parlor.” Erik turned his attention to the young woman clearly trying to stay out of the family affair but not being able to. He walked over to her and extended his hand, “I apologize, Mr. Erik Y and you might be…”

She tried to look anywhere but the mask, “Mrs. Cathleen O’Hara.” Her fair hand extended and Erik shook it.

“She is to be our new wet nurse,” Christine finally had Charlotte cradled in her arms, quieting down.

“Wet nurse?” He turned at looked at his wife. “Christine, I told you I wanted Charlotte to have her mother.”

“And I told you between being a mother and performing I am exhausted. I love performing so a wet nurse is the perfect option.”

“And is she to be starved of her mother’s milk?! I won’t stand for it, Christine I won’t! You know how I feel about this! And look you have her wearing that damn bonnet again! So, another woman’s milk is good for her but as long as that other woman doesn’t see what kind of freak she really is!” Erik waved his hand around in a dramatic gesture matching the words leaving his mouth.

Christine stepped further away from him, insuring he could not grab at the bonnet, “Cathleen, please excuse my husband’s volatile behavior. I will see you out and pay you at least for today’s service until we have settled this.”

Erik stood quiet listening to the women’s conversation from the hall.

“Oh, that is beautiful! What is it?”

“A music box. Gustave knew better than to tip this over. Here I will wind it up and let it play.”

A minute later the notes of “Masquerade” trickled down the hall, followed by the young girl’s laughter. “That is delightful.”

“Yes, it was a gift my husband made me many years ago. He was one of my earliest admirers. Knew who I was when I could barely squeak a note out of my throat. He made this as one of his many attempts to court me.”

“No offense, Madame Y but it must have worked or he would not have been in there passionately wanting the best for his daughter. Mr. O’Hara, God rest his soul,” The girl made the sign of the cross, “never took so much interest in our children. And now I am a widow at 27 with two children and a baby.” 

Mr. Y’s silent eavesdropping was interrupted with a tug on his sleeve. “Papa, what’s a wet nurse?”

***

Christine reclined on the chaise lounge in a loose-fitting tea dress in the library lazily reading a novel. In the distance Gustave plucked away at the piano in the music room and Charlotte finally fell into a deep sleep for her nap. Christine’s own lids became heavy; she dropped the book and allowed herself to doze. She dreamed of Paris; a bassinet next to that glassy lake below the Opera House. A cloaked man looked down into it, _“Down here we are safe, Charlotte. Safe from the cruel eyes of the world. Your beautiful mother, my Persephone, can go between both. Your beautiful mother…mother…mother!”_

Christine opened her eyes to Gustave looking down at her.

“Mother! Mother!”

“Goodness, child what is the matter?” She stretched her arms before sitting up.

“Do you still love Papa? I haven’t seen you kiss him in two days.”

Christine smiled and pushed her hair over her shoulder, “Oh Gustave. Of course, I still love him. We’ve just had a bit of a disagreement.”

“Is it about the wet nurse issue because I think I have a solution. Follow me!” He pulled at his mother’s hand.

“Just a minute,” The Diva stood and put her slippers back on before following her son down the halls stopping in front of Mr. Y’s workshop door. She arched an eyebrow, “Your father’s workshop?”

“Yes. Don’t worry I got the key,” The boy pulled it out of his pocket and let them into the room. “I saw this the other day and I don’t know why Papa didn’t think of it.” Gustave led his mother past the tables and racks of various projects. “He’s made so many wonderful things. He made this; I do not understand why she cannot be the wet nurse.” He spun open the vestibule, “She even looks exactly like you, Charlotte would never know!”

Christine gasped and grabbed her chest. _The automaton! Over a year after I discovered it, he still has it!_

The boy frowned, “Do you not like the idea?”

She smiled and rubbed his head, “You are always so clever, Gustave and doing a great job looking out for your sister. But do not worry your head with issues that are between your father and I. Now let’s go, you know how Papa loathes people snooping in his work room.”


	5. Shameful Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter discusses items that took place in my one shot phic "The Final Touch" you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18046460

The door opened but he did not look up from his blueprints. His mask and wig lay discarded on the end on the table; his shirtsleeves rolled up the top few buttons undone, his waistcoat gone. He looked exhausted, bags extending under his eyes but on he worked.

Christine closed the door to the work room and walked up behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. She felt the tension instantly melt. “Erik, it’s late. You haven’t come to bed in three nights.”

“I’m working on a new project. I hope to have it built for next summer. A house of mirrors where everything is distorted and dark. You won’t look like yourself and you won’t know where you are.”

“So everyone will know how you feel?”

“Damn it, Christine!” he pushed all his tools away. “What do you want?”

She walked around and leaned up against the table so she could look into her husband’s eyes, “We need to talk. If our marriage is to thrive we need to discuss what we need, what we want…” she lifted her hand and caressed his deformed cheek, “What we are feeling.” Her fancy dressing robe fell open and revealed she was wearing her cream georgette nightgown covered with small flower embroidery and lace trim. He remembered it quite well from their honeymoon. It was tighter in the chest right now due to her swollen breasts, but he still adored everything he saw through it. _What exactly was she up to?_

“The man you were ceased to be when I almost died. Those crimes and sins are forgiven. You cannot keep hiding yourself away in anger and frustration. I am not running away at the slightest sign of volatility, so what do you have against a wet nurse?”

The Phantom rested his hand on top of his wife’s, “I have already told you. Charlotte should have her mother’s milk. I don’t want her nurtured by another woman. We are a family and I want my children to know all the paternal love I never had!”

“A wet nurse doesn’t mean I love Charlotte any less. And she would only be used on nights I perform. I love singing again. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until it was gone. And you need me up there too, Erik.” She pulled his face to her chest holding him in an embrace. “You need to hear me sing.”

“I could reduce your schedule,” He ran his hands down his wife’s curves confirming that she wore nothing under the gown. “It would create a greater demand for you; increase the price of your tickets.”

“What if that isn’t what I want?” She ran her fingers through the now fully gray sparse locks of hair on her husband’s head.

He cupped her behind, stroking the soft skin beyond the fabric. He sighed into her breasts, “You’re making me weak, Christine…”

“No, Angel that is your lack of sleep.”

“I don’t want that either…but…but I don’t want our family to suffer either,” he bit at her nipple through the gown. A little milk trickled out.

_This not going as I intended. He is expressing himself but we are getting nowhere with this discussion. Maybe it’s time to address the other issue._

“You know Gustave had an idea,” Christine massaged Erik’s scalp with her nails.

“And what did our genius son come up with?”

“That my understudy could be Charlotte’s wet nurse.”

“You don’t have one.”

“Not even that gorgeous automaton. It’s been almost two years since I found it. Clearly the only reason you still have it is you want it to sing as well,” Christine pulled away from her husband and walked over to the vestibule. She pushed the door opened and looked her twin up and down. “You captured me so well. I never asked you about it when I originally found it…but what was it for?”

“Christine, please…please,” Mr. Y ran to his wife’s side, frantically spun her around and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Do not tease me like this! She was my first automaton. You still haunted me so I built what I knew. She was perfect…but she is also my shame! She knows my secrets and I can’t bare to get rid of her!”

She looked at the madness in her husband’s face, “Oh Erik, she’s not real. I am real and I am here now. What secrets can she possibly know that you cannot tell me?”

“Christine, take me to bed! Let me make love to you! Let me pleasure you, prove to you I am worthy. And then tomorrow you can get that girl back and another. How many wet nurses do you want? You can have them! And we can increase your performance schedule! The new Ooo La La Girls are underwhelming anyway.” He was frantic.

“Erik! You are being ridiculous!” She pulled away from him. “I am your wife! Phantasma may have all the mystery it desires but none so in these walls!”

Mr. Y walked over to the automaton and turned the key on her neck. She raised her head, opened her eyes and raised her arms from her sides.

“You’ve come a long way in making the movements even more lifelike.”

“Yes, but _SHE_ is the only one that is…anatomically correct.” He couldn’t look his wife in the eyes as he spoke.

Christine grabbed the side of the vestibule for support. “Erik…” She whispered clutching her chest with her free hand. “Are you saying…”

“Only a couple of times and I felt atrocious after! Even more like a monster than I already am!” He threw himself at Christine’s feet. “That fateful night continued to drive me mad! I tried to recapture it, recapture the _feeling_ of _you!”_

“But I am here now! And yet you kept it!”

“I didn’t want to think about it. It was easier to keep her locked away than face what I had done.”

“It was hardly locked up! Our son found it! I want it gone!” She took a few steps to leave, but turned around. She observed Erik crumpled on the floor and then looked back up at the automaton. Nothing was ever simple with him.

The Diva walked back over to her husband and knelt down in front of him. She tilted his head up, tears streaming down his cheeks. She wiped them away.

“Show me, Angel.”

“Show you what?”

“Show me how you tried to recapture our first time together. Show me how it works.”

“Oh God how can you ask such a thing?”

“I didn’t ask you. I want no secrets between us,” gently taking his hands into her she helped her husband to his feet. “I know your automatons can walk; will it make it to our bedroom?”

“No need,” Erik pulled Christine into the vestibule.

It was a tight with three, but he closed the door and opened the door on the other side of the vestibule. The room was dark but for a little moonlight that shone through the windows. Erik turned the key on the neck and she took her familiar path to the bed that Christine could not see. He stepped into the room next

“Wait here, I’ll light the lamps.”

Lamp by lamp a bedroom was illuminated before Christine. The sheets on the bed were lumpy, his coat and waistcoat hung on the footboard. Clearly he had been sleeping in here the past couple of night.

“My old room. I preferred sleeping near where I worked before I was an old married man,” he smiled nervously. “Did you want to watch from there or…”

Christine took a deep breath and walked over to her husband’s side.

“It’s all mechanical but soft touched based,” His voice became matter of face. The same tone he used to take when explaining breathing techniques. She knew he was using it to distance himself.

He squeezed her hands: she lifted them and pushed the gold lame dress to the floor. Christine took a few steps closer to her understudy. She touched the breasts, the material soft beneath her fingers. They of course produced no milk. She squatted to make herself level with the automaton’s hairless genital area. So was it really anatomically correct?

“There is a button between…” Mr. Y trailed off. “Push it once it will caress you in certain areas. Push it twice it will sit and then lay down on the bed.”

Christine pushed the button twice and with a wrinkled brow, stared into the hole between the legs. Slowly she lifted her hand and stuck a shaking finger into the hole. Feeling the same soft material the body was made of, she gasped and pulled her finger out. She turned and looked up at Erik, “And you just climbed on top?”

“You make it sound so cold.”

“Then show me otherwise,” She stood back up. “Show me how you thought of me while you made love to my understudy.”

Erik paced and ran his fingers through his wisps, “I…I…can’t, Christine. I cannot just perform on demand. This whole ordeal is humiliating now, you can’t expect me to be aroused by it when I have you!” He pulled her into his arms, “It was you I wanted! I wasn’t proud of what I did with this thing!”

Christine noticed his changes of pronouns when it came to talking about the automaton. She kissed his cheeks, drying his tears, “Come to bed with me, Erik. With a fresh mind we will discuss all of this tomorrow.”


	6. New Music Dinner Disaster

New signs were posted outside the Phantasma theatre: **Mr. Y’s Miss Daae” NOW LIMITED PERFORMACES! COMING SOON NEW MUSIC DEBUT! ARIAS WRITTEN BY MR. Y!**

Christine despised the idea that she gave into Erik’s demands but she did find herself less fatigued. Charlotte was less fussy with more consistent feedings. With the promise of new music, Erik would return home in the afternoons while Charlotte was napping and Gustave was busy with the gymnasts to practice with his wife.

A fundraiser was around the corner for select theatre patrons and Erik and Christine were determined to impress: a multicourse dinner followed by a private premiere of Christine singing one of Mr. Y’s new songs.

After a couple run throughs, Erik lifted his hands from the piano keys, “Your breathing is off today, Angel.”

“The music is still new. Plus I am a bit sore, Charlotte bit me at every feeding today.”

“Ahh, so she is teething. I thought she just developed a new habit of chewing on her blanket.”

Christine chuckled as she sat down next to her husband on the piano bench. She rested her head on his shoulder, “I don’t know if I can have this song ready in time, Angel. I’m not the young ingénue you shaped all those years ago. You write masterpieces, I retired for years, my voice no longer has the strength.”

“That is nonsense and you know it! You are Christine Daae, the great Diva, who came out of retirement and entranced the thousands! They flock here to see you! These new songs will bring new life and can be entered as regulars for next season. Next season when Charlotte will no longer be dependent on you for feeding. I will feel better about her being in a nanny’s care then.”

The Great Diva looked at her husband’s hand and smiled as she rubbed his wedding band, “Would you care deeply if we ended rehearsal early? It would be lovely to have some quite and alone time as husband and wife.” Christine lifted her skirts and slid onto The Phantom’s lap, “We can stay right here; think of it as part of the lesson.”

Mr. Y closed the lid over the piano’s key before unbuttoning Christine’s tan top. He also pulled the chemise away from her breasts. “I know you’re tender, I’m not going to touch. I just don’t want you leaking all over dress.” He cupped her cheek before running his hand down her throat and resting it there. “You always leak when wanton and we can’t have that exposing a mid-day tryst. He chuckled, “Look what you’ve done to me, Christine.” He removed his hand wrapping both of them around her waist pulling her closer. He brushed kisses on her jawline, down her throat. “You have me pushing aside the joys of music for the joys of the flesh; giving myself to you in the middle of the daylight.”

The Soprano rocked her hips back and forth against his loins. “I believe our relationship has always been about the joys of music and the flesh.” Lips met passionately as hands fumbled to open and push away just the right amounts of fabric to allow his erection entrance into her. Christine gasped as she moved to and fro, her voice getting just a bit louder as The Old Opera Ghost’s pushed his middle finger into the sensitive bud right above her womanhood. Within a few minutes, Erik stopped moving and groaned her name into her ear; Christine felt his warm liquid inside her. It had been some time since he’d climaxed that quickly. But Erik was ever the gentleman, he pushed circles into her pleasure mound until she whimpered and quaked.

Sighing, she wrapped her arms around his neck as she raised up just enough to release his flaccid member. She felt some of his seed trickle out as well; a pair of his slacks she would personally have to wash lest he would die of embarrassment. “Daylight isn’t so bad is it?” She nuzzled into his neck.

He kissed her forehead, “Shall we begin or end every rehearsal like this?”

She laughed as she adjusted his wig, “We would never get anything done.”

“Okay…every few rehearsals.” He tilted his head down and gently licked the milk that leaked from her breasts.

*******

Christine looked in the mirror as she adjusted the dress shields over her breasts yet again.

“Angel, if you keep doing that we will be late for our guests,” Erik walked up behind her, maskless and wigless and kissed her cheek.

“The dress is already satin and I have a feeling it is going to be tight. I haven’t worn in since before I was pregnant. And I am supposed to sing in it.”

“You will be beautiful. I will let Anne here finish dressing you,” Erik put his wig and mask on, smoothing it out before leaving the room.

Mr. Y stepped out into the hallway, closed his eyes and let the music run through his mind. Several minutes passed before he felt a pair of arms around his thighs, “Papa, I don’t want to stay upstairs! Why can’t I attend the dinner party?”

“Because it is for adults and will be as boring as hell,” Erik ran his fingers through his son’s hair.

“But mother is going to sing one of your new songs! I want to hear it!”

“You will hear it plenty soon. I might even teach you how to play it, you’ve gotten that good.”

*******

The dinner party started out perfectly. However, in one simple event the party turned. The dining room door opened and one of the servers walked in and directly to Christine.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Y, but Mary requires your attention. Charlotte needs a feeding.”

Christine sighed as she removed her napkin from her lap and stood up, “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, my daughter needs me.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Y waved his hands. “Tell Mary she can bring Charlotte here. It is our dining room after all.”

The server nodded at Erik and left the room.

“Erik, please, she will disturb everything.”

“She’s fine as soon as she’s nursing.”

Mrs. Hunter turned to Christine, “What do you mean you are nursing? Do you not have a wet nurse for that? Your performance schedule makes you too important to be doing such a thing.”

“I considered it, but we decided it was important for Charlotte to be with her mother,” Christine took a sip of her tea.

“So Mr. Y is a hands on father?” Mr. Hunter chuckled as he looked at Erik. “That’s not very mysterious.”

The tension building in the room was broken when Mary entered with the crying baby. The Diva pushed her satin bodice down as best she could, as this dress was not designed for nursing, she removed one of her dress guards and Charlotte latched right away.

“She’s going to take after her mother and be a singer with those vocal cords,” Erik raised his wine glass and took a sip. “But see how correct I was with her being quite as soon as she’s nursing. But back to the plans on how to expand the Phantasma stage.”

“I would love to see full operas,” Mrs. Jones stated. “Your wife clearly has the talent. I read she was once a promising diva back in Paris.”

Christine smiled as she adjusted Charlotte, “Daisy you are sweetest, but there is also plenty of promising talent here in New York City.”

When she adjusted Charlotte, the blanket she was wrapped in shifted exposing the infants head to the dinner party. Mrs. Hunter, brown eyes wide, gasped, “Good heavens what is wrong with that child!?”

Christine looked down to see all of her daughter’s Aplasia Cutis Congenita displayed. She had been doing as Erik desired and had stopped putting Charlotte in the bonnet. Erik kissed her deformities every chance he got, Charlotte smiled more out of the bonnet and Christine came to see them as normal as she saw her husband’s face.

All the guests’ eyes were now on Charlotte’s little head. Christine’s cheeks burned as she pulled her daughter closer, “It’s a little birth defect, that is all. She is still a perfectly healthy and happy child.”

“How can you call that healthy?” Mrs. Jones asked. “The insides of her head are exposed!”

“If she wasn’t healthy she would have died at birth!” Christine snapped.

“So is this why you nurse? You couldn’t get a wet nurse to look at the thing? Not even a negro?” Mrs. Morgan spoke for the first time in a while.

“Erik, you should have put her up for adoption. Such a talented and lovely family doesn’t deserve such tragedy,” Mr. Morgan added.

Christine saw the furrowed brow on the good side of her husband’s face and knew they were only seconds away from catastrophe. She covered Charlotte back up as best she could if only to muffle his booming voice.

“How dare you mock such a defenseless creature!” he was up from his chair and sent it flying behind him. “You want someone to ridicule, how about the real freak of Phantasma! Behold the truth of the Mysterious Mr. Y!” Erik pulled his mask and wig off. “Yes little Charlotte gets it from her daddy!”

The wives at the table screamed, Mrs. Hunter fainting. “Good God we’ve been dining with a monster!” Mr. Jones exclaimed.

“How quickly your opinion changes with just the removal of a mask! Do you think your reaction is anything new to me? I however promised my children they would know their parents love unlike me!”

Mr. Hunter was helping his wife to her feet when he looked at Christine, “You left a Viscount for this?”

“I left a Viscount who was a gambling drunk to return to the man I originally loved!” Christine stood up. “And if you are going to keep insulting my husband and our children, you can excuse yourself from our house!”

All the guests shuffled towards the door and out.

“That’s right leave! Phantasma doesn’t need the support of fair weathers!” Erik turned and yelled as they left.

The dinning room was now silent except for Charlotte’s cooing. After a few seconds, Erik grabbed his chair and sunk into it. Face in his hands he spoke, “I am sorry, Christine. I am so sorry. I’ve ruined us!”

The Soprano said nothing as she adjusted her dress before walking over to her husband. “You haven’t ruined us. Your anger for once was justified and you didn’t get violent; I’m proud of you for that. And someone else is proud of you for all of it.” Christine placed Charlotte into her husband’s arms.

The baby smiled and cooed at her father. Erik smiled and laughed before lifting her up to his puffy lips and covering her face in kisses. Christine kissed her husband’s head, “Do you still want me to sing for you?”

“No, I want you to sing for our family,” Erik stood up. “Go get Gustave. Charlotte and I will meet you in the music room.”


	7. Quiet

Erik yawned and stretched his arms over his head. When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see Christine looking down at him. She placed her index finger over his mouth her hair falling over her shoulders.

“I fed Charlotte and just got her back to sleep. Do you think we can be quite?” She whispered into his ear a mischievous grin on her mouth.

The Phantom propped himself up on the pillows an arch on his brow, “What in the Devil? We made love twice last night!”

Christine laid her head against her husband’s chest, “Last night, Erik, seeing you defend our daughter the way you did, made me lascivious. To see how much you’ve curved your violence but have lost none of your passion...”

“I’ve been trying so hard, Christine. Music and then you are all I’ve ever wanted and now that I have them both…” He leaned in and kissed her, pushing her flat on her back. He pulled away and smiled, playing with her hair, “How about I just show you that passion since you desire it so.”

He pulled her nightgown off tossing it onto the floor, “No need to worry about that since we’ll be getting dressed later.” He sat up between her legs, pulled his nightshirt off and it joined hers on the floor, “Same goes for mine.”

Christine reached up and touched her husband’s chest. So many scars from the abuse he suffered when he was in the circus. She felt honored he trusted her so fast in being nude in her presence. He leaned down and kissed her, opened mouth slipping his tongue pass her lips. He tangled his fingers through her hair as her hands trailed down his body, grouping his behind.

“Christine, I love you…I love you,” Erik whispered before trailing kisses on her jawline, down her neck eventually leading to between her breasts.

The Diva dug her nails into his buttock, “Quit teasing me…”

The Phantom smiled as he licked around her left areola before just slighting biting the nipple. He then latched, helping himself to a solid serving of her milk. Christine moaned at the sensation; he had not partaken last night heightening it. He trailed one of his hands between her thighs, finding her folds already sticky.

He pulled away from her breast, “Mmm, how long were you thinking about this before I woke?”

“I am a horribly wanton woman, Angel. I am not meant for proper society,” Christine whispered in his ear.

“It’s why you found your way back to me; your Angel of Music, outcast of society.”

His fingers slick with her moisture, he rolled that sensitive nub between his fingers until he felt it engorge more than it was. Christine arched off the bed and cried out.

“I thought we were being quiet,” Erik growled pushed his growing erection into her inner thigh as he squeezed the nub. “Perhaps I should assist in silencing that voice I trained.” He placed his free hand on her throat and squeezed lightly while continuing to squeeze and roll the flesh between her thighs.

Christine saw flashes of light behind her closed lids as release rolled between her thighs. Erik found his hand wet when her quick intense climax released a gush from inside her. When he let go of her throat, she gasped loud, placing her own hand on her chest. Her Angel of Music did not let up though. His hands were on her waist, his damp hand cold on her warmed skin as he turned her onto her stomach.

“Oh Erik, really?” Christine gasped still breathless.

“Yes. I know exactly how this drives you mad.” Pushing her behind up ever so slightly, Erik slipped his cock into her. He pushed hard and deep; the sound of their flesh against each other was far from being hushed tones.

“Oh Angel,” The Soprano moaned as she squirmed under him, growing weaker with each thrust.

He placed his hands on top of hers sinking them into the mattress, “Sing for me, sing for me when your voice has no control.”

Christine cried out feeling herself constrict around her husband’s girth as he now pushed in and out faster.

“Yes, yes, that’s it sing,” he groaned into her ear, trying to pull himself back from falling off the edge of gratification himself. He lifted one of his hands off of her’s and worked it underneath her body and brushed her bud with his middle finger. And sing his Christine did.

The Soprano cried and whimpered as wave after wave of pleasure broke over her. She collapsed and sank into the bed, the walls of her womanhood still pulsing around her husband’s manhood when his own climax finished. The instant he withdrew she felt his seed flow out instantly and into a wet spot she had already created on the sheets. She also felt wet spots under her breasts.

He laid down beside her, kissing her shoulders, “Ah Christine, Ah Christine.” She sighed loudly, “Oh Angel, I am thoroughly spent.”

Erik, wiped the sweat from her forehead, “Are you sure? I might be ready again.”

She smiled at him, “Oh Angel, I do not believe I can walk right now as it is.”

Mr. Y rolled her onto her back and straddled her, “Are you saying, Mrs. Christine Y that we are too sick to get out of bed?” A smile on his bloated lips he leaned in to kiss her.

Christine started to laugh trying to push him away, “Oh God no!”

However, their excessive afterglow was interrupted by a frantic knock at their door. “Mama! Mama! Are you okay?!” The door then flew open and Gustave ran in fully dressed for the day.

“Papa is she okay?!”

“Gustave!” Christine shrieked.

Erik rolled off his wife and both grabbed for the sheets to cover themselves from their son as they sat up. Once they were both organized, Gustave saw his mother and threw himself at her, not noticing the sheet and blue quit was all that covered her.

“I heard you crying, Mama!” He wrapped his arms around her as he sat next to her on the bed. “I thought you were hurt again! You were crying almost like you do in my nightmares!”

“Oh darling,” She held her son tight. “It’s okay. I am fine.”

He looked up at her, tears in his eyes, “Then why were you crying?” He looked over at his father eyes wide, “Why was she crying? You said you wouldn’t hurt her!”

“Oh Gustave,” Christine rubbed her son’s cheek as she smiled at him, “Papa didn’t hurt me at all.”

“Then why were you crying?”

Christine looked over at her husband who was rubbing his eyes.

“So why was I crying, Erik?”

The Phantom sighed and ran his fingers through his thin hair. Christine smiled at him before returning her attention to their son, “You see Gustave, sometimes husbands and wives cry in pleasure together over things that are not discussed because even if they were you are too young for them to be.”

The boy looked perplexed at her for a minute. Christine bit her lip hoping for no questions.

“But mother,” Gustave stated. “You never cried like that with Mr. de Chagny.”

A laugh from the bottom of his gut busted from Erik’s mouth as he flopped back down onto the bed.

Christine patted her son’s head, “Be a darling and take your sister with you back to Mary. I need to have a word with your father. You can have breakfast without us, we’ll be down later. Close the door on your way out.” She kissed his cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Gustave,” Erik sat back up and smiled at his son.

“Come on, Charlotte,” The boy stood on tip toe and removed his sister from the bassinette. The baby slowly woke up as he carried her out and closed the door.

“Erik, you are terrible!” Christine picked up one of the pillows and hit her husband with it.

The man continued to laugh, but eventually grabbed the pillow from her and tossed it to the floor. “Ten long years of no ‘pleasure crying,’ my poor Christine. No wonder Gustave had no siblings. No wonder you’re so wanton and was in the family way within a month of us being together again.”

“You got me pregnant, after one night the first time,” she lightly slapped his deformed his cheek.

“Because I made you climax three times. Shall we go for four?” He nuzzled his face into her neck and nibbled lightly.

“We’re lucky I’m nursing, keeps me getting pregnant again,” She ran her fingers through Mr. Y’s hair as she wrapped her legs around him. 

“And to think you wanted a wet nurse!”

She slapped his face again, “Keep that up Mr. Y and you’ll be back in your old room with my understudy.”

“At least she made me pleasure cry unlike that…”

Christine pushed her whole hand over The Phantom’s mouth, “Quiet!”

He kissed her palm before speaking into it, “Charlotte is no longer in the room, we don’t have to be. Not that we were when she was.”

“Shut up and fuck me again, Erik.”

The man arched his eyebrows, “Language, Mrs. Y! But since you asked so politely.” He leaned down and kissed his wife passionately knowing he would be late for work and that it didn’t exactly matter. 


	8. Paternal Protection

“The rest of the afternoon is now ours,” Christine adjusted Gustave’s hat. He made a face as she did so. “Now young man, Charlotte has her bonnet, I have my hat and you will have yours. The sun is still out.”

“But Papa said Charlotte isn’t to wear her bonnet anymore.”

“When inside, she needs protection outside. Now do you want ice cream before dinner or not?”

“Ice cream!” Gustave exclaimed opening his mother’s dressing room door and running down the corridors to the backstage door.

Christine looked down at Charlotte in the baby carriage, biting on her teething ring, drool running down her cheek and onto her bib. She smiled up at her mom and held the teething ring up at her in her little chubby hand.

“Oh, look at you, you are a complete mess,” Christine smiled back as she used the bib to wipe her daughter’s face. Charlotte giggled and cooed before sticking the teething ring back in her mouth. “Now to the boardwalk.”

Christine pushed the carriage through the same corridors to the backstage door where she found her son waiting. As soon as he saw his mother, he opened the door and held it open for her. But his visions of ice cream and boardwalk games were quickly dashed by row of reporters and photographers waiting in the blinding sun.

“Mrs. Y, is true you have been hiding your daughter from the press and fans because she is deformed?”

“My exclusive source says Mr. Y is as deformed as the freaks he makes his money off of and that he’s only using you to elevate his art. Care to comment?”

Christine tried to push the carriage past but they kept after.

“Do you think Mr. Y wants to use your voice for his art and your womb to birth more freaks? Our sources say your daughter shouldn’t even be alive.”

“Leave my sister alone!” Gustave ran up to that reporter and knocked the notebook out of his hand. That stopped everyone stopped in their tracks. “Papa says she’s just a baby, she can’t help it!”

“Gustave!” Christine cried.

During those few seconds while Christine was distracted, a photographer walked up to the carriage from the other side, but before he could get a good enough angle into the carriage, Charlotte picked up her rattle. Christine turned around instantly.

“How dare you!” She slapped the man. “How dare all of you! Come onto my husband’s park, insult and harass his wife and children! I shall see that none of you are ever allowed back!”

“I will make sure you shall never write another review or article!” Mr. Y’s voice boomed.

When Christine turned towards his voice, she saw her husband had one of the reporters in a rope noose leaning up against his body. Visions of the past right before her eyes. “Erik, no!”

The rest of the reporters went silent. A few people walking by stopped and watched. Gustave ran over to his mother and hugged her tight; he’d never seen his father in such a state.

“Now that I have your attention and your colleague’s life in my hands, may I highly suggest you end your obscene questioning, accosting of my family and leave my property. Do that and I will spare your fellow truth seeker here.”

“Erik, let him go now!” Christine spoke firmly.

Mr. Y looked at his son, his face buried in his mother’s skirt before meeting Christine’s burning eyes. He stopped pulling on the noose and slid it off the man’s neck. The reporters and photographers cleared leaving an awkward family portrait for the remaining onlookers.

“They were being mean to Charlotte!” Gustave ran over to his father and hugged him. “I’m sorry! If I hadn’t slapped that notebook, you wouldn’t had to do that! I was just being brave for her, Papa!”

Christine’s heart ached as she watched this scene but she focused on the lasso still hanging from Erik’s hand as he embraced the boy. She shivered, “Gustave, come on. Papa has to get back to work. And I promised you ice cream did I not?”

They both walked back over to her and as they did Mr. Y spoke, “Make sure he gets extra for being such a brave big brother.” As Gustave looked down at his sister, the exposed side of Mr. Y’s face pleaded with this wife.

“Get rid of it, Erik. I don’t want to see it again.”

He nodded, “May we talk tonight?”

She smiled sadly at her husband, “Of course.”

“Go by Boris and tell him per my instructions he is to spend the rest of the day with you,” Mr. Y spoke firmly.

The Soprano sighed. She did not want the security of The Russian Strong Man.

“I will hear no objections after what just happened.”

“Boris is spending the day with us?” Gustave looked up at his parents. “May I ride on his shoulders?”

“Yes.” Erik said the same time his wife emphatically exclaimed “No!”

Erik looked at his wife and then at his son, “Listen to your mother, Gustave. I will see you tonight.”

*******

When Erik entered his home, he heard Gustave playing the piano; practicing one of the new pieces he wrote. He son was truly a musical genius just like his parents to get it so fast. As he entered the parlor, Christine’s cream colored dressing gown spread out behind her on the Turkish rug as she sat on it. When he walked around to face her, he saw Charlotte propped up against her leg stacking wooden block into random columns.

“If she keeps that up, she’ll be designing for me in no time.”

“I doubt anything she’s making will stand,” Christine placed a block on top of on the towers. Charlotte grabbed it, brought it to her mouth and started to chew on it. “Especially if that’s how she’s going to treat the building material.”

Erik chuckled as he watched his daughter gnaw on the block. He sat down slightly diagonal from Christine on the floor. He started building with the blocks the silence thick between them. Charlotte broke it by tossing the drool covered block destroying what Erik had just built up. Both her parents laughed and in response Charlotte laughed as well.

The Phantom cleared his throat before speaking, “You see Christine, this is what today was about. For the first time in my life I am happy; I have everything I’ve ever wanted: my own theatre, you as my wife, a growing family, I am like any other man.” His tone shifted, “But then I see you being accosted because of my cursed face! And now I have given it to our daughter! I have tied you to a life of ridicule and my attempts to be a legitimate husband and musician are a fraud! I was right when I left you that night back in Paris. It was better when I stay locked away either beneath the opera house or in the tower looking down at my freakshow.”

Tears streamed down The Diva’s cheeks. How long has it been since he’s been this open? This honest? This emotionally vulnerable? The anger she had melted and she lost her prepared speech. She picked Charlotte up and placed her on her stomach to buy herself some time. The child was finally growing some hair; just a little bit of light-colored fuzz. Christine hoped it would fill in and maybe make the girl’s father feel better. The baby picked up another block and stuck it in her mouth. Christine pondered taking it away and giving her the teething ring but opted not to, knowing she would cry the moment the block was removed.

“Erik, you are not a fraud! We deserve every minute of this life we have built. We know we are not conventional, this is bound to happen.” She looked him right in the eyes, “However, you have come so far with controlling your anger and violence. You do not need to resort back to that to protect us. Seeing you use that lasso again disgusted me! You are no longer that man. You are better than that. Gustave has already been through so much; he didn’t need to see that! Please Erik, think before acting! I know you want the best for us, to protect us but we cannot do that if you get in trouble.”

He nodded in agreement, “Forgive me, Christine. It seems I am destined to spend my life begging for your mercy.”

Charlotte discarded the block in her mouth crawled the short distance to her father, pulling on his pant leg. He lifted the child into his lap. “You too, my little darling. Some day I will say I am sorry you look like me instead of your radiant mother.”

In her father’s lap she now reached up and tugged at his ascot. “Yes, yes, Papa is still overdressed.” He removed his mask and wig, sitting them on the end table beside a chair, high up and out of Charlotte’s reach. “But until that day, let Papa love you.” He raised her to his face to kiss her but before he could she put her hands on his disfigured cheek. She pushed her little chubby fingers into the nooks and crannies, rubbed them over the textured skin. She cooed and babbled. Erik chuckled.

“Congratulations, you are her new toy for the rest of the evening,” Christine giggled.

“That is quite alright,” Erik mumbled as Charlotte had stuck one of her little hands into his mouth.

Christine stood up, “I’m going go get Gustave ready for his bath and bed.” She kissed her husband on the top of head before leaving the room.

Alone with his daughter, he waited before he heard the piano and the voices of his wife and son disappear up the stairs before he started talking to Charlotte, who had removed her hand from his mouth.

“My little girl, the world is such a cruel place. Looking at you, I can understand why my mother was so cold to me. She was only preparing me for what laid ahead.”

Charlotte started to babble again as she moved her hands around her father’s face not just on the deformed side.

“But I am not my mother. And yes, I was angry and heartbroken when the doctor lifted you up and I saw you resembled me. But I also knew I loved you with every fiber of my being. I wanted to give you everything I was denied. And your mother is the kindest soul to walk this earth. After violently screaming in pain as she brought you into the world, she gracefully told the doctor ‘She’s perfectly fine, doctor. Have you ever seen such a beautiful girl?’ She only had you in that bonnet to protect you from the world.”

Charlotte wiggled so Erik moved her down into his lap, where she looked up at him with doe eyes. Her mother’s. So she didn’t completely resemble him. She crawled back over to the small pile of blocks in front of her father, picked one up and handed it to him.

He smiled, “Ah so you do want to build something for Phantasma!” He stacked a couple of blocks up and Charlotte put one on top of them. She then built her own tower and clapped. Erik clapped in return, “Yes Charlotte that is beautiful!”

Outside the parlor Christine leaned up against wall, eavesdropping on the one-sided conversation. Gustave insisted on going upstairs by himself and wanted his father to help him; so Christine came back to get Erik. However, upon hearing her husband talking to their daughter she stopped and listened. Tears brimmed in her eyes as her heart fluttered as she heard his words. She knew he had always been a Romantic but to hear such paternal love, such domestic bliss swell from the man who used to terrorize the Opera Populaire? 

Christine took a deep breath and walked into the parlor, “Erik, Gustave wants you instead.”

Erik looked up and smiled, “That is just fine.” He stood up and then bent down and picked Charlotte up, securing her in his arms, “Come on little girl, let’s go get your brother’s bath ready.”

As he walked past, Christine grabbed his arm stopping him in his place. She leaned over and kissed him, “Erik, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She watched as he walked out of the room and down the hall. Oh to make up those ten long years.


	9. Page Six

From his music room above the theatre, Erik tinkered out notes on the grand piano before stopping. He pulled the quill out of the ink well and then marked their spaces on the ledger paper in front of him. While his head was up, he looked out the window. Phantasma’s boardwalks seemed fuller than usual. Curious. Dipping the quill back in the inkwell, he headed downstairs and while going through the corridors he saw one of his stage managers on break reading a paper.

“George, have you been out in the park yet?”

“I have sir. Why?”

“It looks busier than usual.”

“This might be why,” The man flipped back a few pages and then handed it to Erik.

It was Page Six and right at the top read the headline _Phantastic Phreaks!_ Underneath were a few photos: one of Erik holding that reporter in a noose, a blurry one of Christine slapping the photographer and finally a blurry one of Gustave knocking the notepad out of yet another reporter. He moved on to read the article: _Turns out Phantasma isn’t just a place to have some fun, catch a good show or gawk at the freaks. Anonymous sources say Mr. Y, whose real name is Erik, wears that mask not just for dramatics. Behind it hides grotesque deformities making him a bigger freak than all the ones in his own shows. As for his family, wife renowned opera singer Christine Daae, has been hiding their infant daughter because as our anonymous sources saw she is deformed like her father. Their son seems to be prone to violent outrages just like his father, just like any other freak that belongs in a cage._

Erik crushed the paper in his hands and handed it back to his stage manager.

“They are probably hoping to get a glance of you, sir. And to be honest there are several employees who haven’t seen you let alone without your mask.”

“Does the park run smoothly without everyone seeing me?”

“Yes, but after everything that happened last year, it would be considerate if everyone knew who you were and that everything is okay now.”

“Well if they read the paper, they can find me on page 6! And after the next show tell the girls to stick around; they were off pitch earlier and I’m going to come down and rehearse them again.” Mr. Y turned around and stormed back upstairs.

*******

It took a good portion of the morning but Christine finally found herself climbing the stairs of the Jones’ brownstone. She turned the doorbell and in a minute a butler answered the door.

“I am here to call on Mrs. Jones,” Christine’s kid glove covered hand gave the butler her calling card.

He opened the door and let Christine into the foyer. Once all of her dress’ train was in he closed the door, “Just a minute Madame. I will see if Mrs. Jones wants to entertain visitors.”

Christine removed her gloves and put them in her drawstring purse. She then walked over to the mirror on the wall and tucked in the stray hairs back into her up do.

“Christine!” Mrs. Jones walked up to The Diva smiling and took her hands. “I didn’t think I would see you again after that dinner. Come you must be parched. I just ordered high tea, I’ll get them to make it for two.”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Christine followed the woman into her personal sitting room. She was glad of the warm welcome just as much as she was perplexed at it.

As The Diva sat, Daisy pulled the rope for the servant’s bell and a maid came in and was given new instructions for the tea. Mrs. Jones then sat down beside her guest, “Do not say a word, I know exactly why you are here. I saw the dreaded thing myself. The Hunters and Morgans asked if we wanted to go to papers to expose Mr. Y for what he was.” She took Christine’s hands again, “We told them we couldn’t. We were more than donors; we were friends with Mrs. Y, and Mr. Y had his good days. I was surprised they waited that long to question you about it. And we were terrible friends. We behaved at appallingly your dinner party. We did not think twice about insulting your daughter or your husband. Can you ever forgive us?”

Christine smiled warmly, “I know I can forgive you. Mr. Y might not be so accommodating. The world has been so cruel to him. It took him some time to even show me his masked face. However, a nice donation to the theatre would go far as a start.”

Daisy laughed, “Oh but of course. We were still planning on it. I will ask Howard to double it.”

The door to the sitting room opened and Mrs. Jones’ oldest daughter, a girl around the age of 14 entered the room, “Mother, Sara has hid my favorite hat pin and will not tell me where! She is also not telling Miss O’Leary. How am I to go to the ice cream parlor without it?”

“Jonathan is going to be there isn’t he, Rose?” Daisy folded her hands in her lap and looked sternly at her daughter.

“Mother you know Jonathan always meets us when we go to the ice cream parlor. How can I face him if my outfit is not complete?”

Christine watched love struck girl’s banana curls bounce for a second before speaking up, “He clearly likes you for something beside your hat pin doesn’t he?”

The girl paused for a second, “Yes but his aunt also likes the pin and she’s his chaperon.”

“So this is what this is about.” Mrs. Jones pushed some stray blonde hair out of her eyes, “Tell Sara if she does not give it back, she will not get to go along with you and Miss O’Leary.”

The girl smiled and gave her mother a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you, mother!” She was out of the door faster than she was in.

“Oh Christine, you just saved us all so much time,” Daisy sighed with relief. This hat pin hiding has become a dreadful exercise of Sara’s. I believe she does not like her sister being sweet on Jonathan.”

“They are still young, hopefully it is just a little summer sweetheart and soon Sara will have her sister back.”

A servant brought in a tea cart and started putting together plates for the women before leaving them to themselves again.

“Oh how can you say such a thing, Christine?” Daisy poured a cup of tea for both of them. “Clearly your heart cannot be so filled with love for your husband that you do not have some fond memories for your childhood sweetheart?”

Christine lifted her cup to her mouth and took a sip, looking away from her friend.

“Christine?”

The Soprano sat her cup down, “Daisy, Raoul was my childhood sweetheart! He came back into my life just as I was falling in love with Erik. Erik gave me back my voice after my father had died. His training was making me a star at the Opera Populaire. Then Raoul heard me sing at my debut.”

“Oh, well all the more reason we need to donate to your husband’s theatre and to work against that vile Page Six gossip.” She watched as her friend ate a sandwich. “What if I was to get together another group of people to invest? Bring them to one of your performances. Have them meet you after the show. Then set a separate time my husband and I could come over and give Mr. Y the check and still get a listen to one of those new songs he’s been working on?”

Christine smile sheepishly into her tea cup, “I will see if I can soften him.”

*******

The sun was starting to set when Christine opened the front door, a frantic Mr. Y grabbed her arms.

“Where have you been? Mary said you pumped into a bottle for her to feed Charlotte from for the day and then went into the city without saying why!”

“Erik, I’m fine!” She wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed his exposed cheek. “You know how long it takes to get to and from Manhattan from here.”

“I was so worried did you see Page Six? I thought someone might have stalked and accosted you over it!”

She ran her fingers up through his wig, “You worried someone might be better at stalking and accosting me than you?” She laughed.

“Christine, please,” He ran his hand down the side of her face stopping on her throat, caressing it softly. “These people are out here to ruin us!”

“Well then you will be excited to hear my news!”

“Is that mother?” Gustave came out of the parlor with a crying Charlotte in his arms. “She finished all the milk you left. I think she has to be hungry; Papa already changed her diaper.”

Christine took her daughter from her son and headed into the parlor. She sat down on the couch within a few seconds Charlotte was silent, sucking intensely at Christine’s left breast. Erik walked in and sat down beside his wife.

“What is this exciting news you had for me, love?”

“After I saw the Page Six, I had to call on Daisy. I had to know if she was part of it or not. She wasn’t. She said the Hunters and Morgans asked if they wanted to be sources as well but they couldn’t bring themselves to be cruel to us. She even apologized for her behavior at the dinner party and to make up for it they are wanting to double their original promised donation!” She smiled at her husband. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Erik looked down at Gustave packing up the wooden blocks. He then looked over at Charlotte content as she filled her belly, her chubby little hand grabbing at her mother’s teat. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His jaw clinched, his hand formed fists. He sat that way for a good minute or two. He finally released his breath and muscles as he stood, “I will believe the donation when I see it. Gustave, when you finish that, get your books and go read in the library.” He then headed out of the parlor and down the hall.

“Is Papa okay?” Gustave looked up at his mother.

Christine smiled, “Yes, Gustave, Papa is more than okay.”


	10. Forgiveness and Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few little historical notes to know going into this chapter: Dyspepsia is a 19th Century/Dated term for upset stomach/indigestion. Papoid Pills are a 19th Century treatment for Dyspepsia.
> 
> Another little note: Something from my one shot "No Coffee" is mentioned again. Hopefully you've already read it since it was already referenced in this phic.

Christine opened the door to Erik’s workroom and found him bent over an automaton. As she stepped closer, she realized it was her understudy.

“I know I didn’t get rid of it,” he mumbled not looking up. “I’m salvaging it for parts. I hope that is okay.”

“I was so proud of you this evening, Angel,” Christine wrapped her arms his shoulders. “I saw how angry you were about my conversation with Daisy; I saw how you controlled your rage.” She looked at the pile of parts removed from the automaton, “I don’t know how I feel about you taking it out on something that looks like me, but at least our children did not have to see it.” She kissed his cheek, “It’s late, come to bed. You can finish with her tomorrow.”

He pulled the rubber material over the automaton’s stomach hiding the mechanical workings. “Do you really believe Daisy when she said she wasn’t part of the group who went to the gossip page?”

“I did, why?”

Erik got up and stretched before turning around, “How can you trust her after the dinner party?”

“I can believe she is sincere in her apology and forgive.” She leaned into his body and wrapped her arms around his neck, “The same way I have forgiven you for all you have done.”

Mr. Y smiled and chuckled. He leaned and kissed his wife’s forehead, “Christine, I love you.”

*******

It was time for their mid-afternoon rehearsal, but when The Phantom entered the house he was greeted by Charlotte rolling down the hall in her walker with Mary a few steps behind her.

“Dada, Dada!” The child exclaimed and she picked up her steps and rolled faster to her father.

“Yes Charlotte, Dada is here!” He walked up to the walker and when she stopped, he lifted her out of it.

“Don’t get too excited, Sir she was calling Gustave Dada until he left,” Mary informed.

“That is quite all right. She will figure it out,” Erik smothered his daughter’s face in kisses and Charlotte laughed.

“Dada!” The baby said again.

“Mary, where is Christine?”

“She’s not feeling well, Sir and is upstairs resting.”

He turned at looked at his daughter, “Come on, let’s go see, Mama.”

He headed upstairs, daughter in his arms, and into their bedroom. There Christine laid on her side in a loose pink tea dress, a basin bowl on her night stand, a handkerchief in her hand.

“Oh Erik, I am afraid I will not be able to rehearse today,” Christine propped herself up on the pillows.

“Angel, is everything okay?” Erik sat down at the foot of empty side of the bed. He sat Charlotte down and she made quick work of crawling around on the empty space between her parents.

“Just a little dyspepsia, that is all,” She placed her hand on her stomach. “I should be able to rehearse tonight.”

“Should I get you some Papoid Pills?”

“No, I just need to rest.”

“Dada, Dada!” Charlotte crawled into Erik’s lap.

“Yes, yes, my little girl,” Erik sat her up and wrapped one arm around her. He ran the other over her head. “Look how much hair you are growing. Have you showed Mama your hair lately?”

Christine smiled, “Yes she has. And at dinner we need to show Papa just how much cereal we can eat.”

“Dada!” Charlotte raised her little chubby arms up and grabbed at Erik’s chin.

“Come on, say good-bye to, Mama, we’re going to let her rest,” He picked up his daughter and then walked around to the other side of the bed.

“Nooo Dada!” Charlotte wiggled in his arms.

Erik leaned over and kissed his wife lightly on her lips, “Feel better.”

Once the door was closed, Christine felt a wave of nausea overcome her. Bile burned her throat and mouth as she spit it into the basin. She wiped her mouth with the handkerchief and then laid back down completely. The Diva knew her body but she still hoped it was really just dyspepsia that would pass.

*******

“Are you sure they are coming?” Erik rubbed his hands together as he stood in the middle of the Turkish rug.

“Yes, Daisy herself sent me a confirmation telegram this morning,” Christine straighten her husband’s tux’s tie.

He touched one of the large jewels on her necklace, “You shouldn’t wear this, I associate it with misfortune.”

“That was two years ago. I would like to think wearing it tonight will bring us new fortune. Besides we are not just freaks…we are also what the Americans call ‘New Money.’ Perhaps we should have put some diamonds on your mask.”

The man laughed before kissing his wife. It was interrupted by their son running into the room.

“Mother, is my tie correct? What about my waistcoat?” Gustave stood stiff his nose high in the air.

Christine bent down to examine the boy’s first tux. “You are becoming quite the young man. Soon you will be taller than me.” She tugged on his coat a little before standing up. “There. Now back to the music room. If you keep fidgeting it will keep wrinkling.”

Once the sound of Gustave’s shoes was gone, Erik took his wife into his arms, “I don’t know if I can do this, Christine. I don’t know if I can forgive like you; I don’t know if I can open myself up and share _our_ music.”

“Angel of Music, you are going to be wonderful. Did you just see how excited our son is to accompany me on one of the songs?”

There was a ring of the doorbell and within a few minutes the butler showed in Mr. and Mrs. Jones into the Parlor.

“Daisy, thank you so much for joining us this evening,” Christine cheerfully approached her friend and embraced her.

“No thank you, for the invitation.”

Mr. Jones cleared his throat, “Yes, thank you so much, Mrs. Y.” He gave her a small bow before kissing her hand. “And Erik, I own you a sincere apology for my behavior last time you had us at your home. May we put that behind us?” Mr. Jones extended his hand.

Christine held her friend’s hand tight as she observed her husband’s body language. She watched as he avoided all eye contact with her and he flexed his hands. He finally took a deep breath before shaking Mr. Jones hand, “I accept your apology, Branwell.”

“Lovely!” Christine clapped her hands, smiling. “Now, shall we head to the music room; we’ve decided for entertainment before dinner because our son will be accompanying me on the piano tonight.”

Mr. and Mrs. Jones sat on the settee that was moved into the room while Erik stood in the doorway. Gustave sat tall and proud, making sure the tails of his little tux hung down over the bench as he played “Love Never Dies” for his mother to sing. They were met with enthusiastic applause from their small audience when the song was over. With an ear to ear grin, Gustave joined his mother for a bow as she curtsied.

“Mr. Y wrote that song with me and my voice on his mind and it was what was the first song of his I sang here in America,” Christine smiled at Erik. “I thought it would be a nice warm up before you, our friends, get a preview the new aria he wrote to be debuted later this season. It’s titled ‘Songbird;’ Gustave if you will.”

The boy nodded and returned to the piano and counted off for his mother. Erik felt his heart swell as he listened to his son and wife bring his music to life. Tear swelled in his eyes and ran down his cheeks, behind the mask for one cheek. Once finished, again the small audience erupted in passionate applause.

Branwell Jones sprung up and walked over to Christine, “Oh, that was beautiful!” He took her hands into his, “That is everything an aria should be! That could fit right in the middle of a complete opera.”

“Yes! I was thinking the exact thing,” Daisy turned and looked at Erik, “Please tell me you have plans to write a full opera.”

“I have written a full opera before. It takes a significant amount of funding to perform.”

“Well maybe, this will be a decent start,” Branwell let go of Christine and walked up to The Phantom. He pulled a check out of his tux’s jacket, “Perhaps this will be a nice start to that funding.”

Mr. Y took the check, looked at it quickly before tucking it into his tux’s jacket pocket, “Thank you so much, Branwell. This is a very generous donation to Phantasma’s theatre. Shall we continue this discussion over dinner? Please follow me.”

“Mother, do I get to join at dinner?” Gustave looked up at Christine from the piano bench.

“Of course,” she smiled. “But you will have to head to bed right after.”

*******

“Erik you were wonderful tonight,” Christine sat down at her vanity. “You also seemed to actually enjoy yourself.”

“I did,” The man smiled as he walked over to his wife. “You did not see the check yet,” he removed it from his pocket and handed it to her.

Her eyes widened as he unclasped her necklace, “Are you serious?” She met her husband’s gaze in the mirror.

He collected the necklace in his hand and kissed her neck, “Put that in your jewelry box along with this.” He sat the necklace on the vanity. “This check wasn’t the only reason I enjoyed myself. He continued to place soft kisses on her neck. “I cried hearing you and our son perform my music. I never knew the world could hold so much beauty.” He ran his fingers softly down her exposed arms.

Christine sat the check on the vanity before tilting her head back and resting it against him. She looked up and smiled. “You didn’t enjoy the company of our guests at all? You didn’t enjoy the learning there are people who can be trusted and that you can forgive?”

“Don’t ruin it, Christine,” he leaned down and kissed her. He ran his fingers gently back up her arms and then across her chest. “Get up, I want to get you out of that dress and ravish you.”

“Is that a promise?” Christine stood and pulled Erik towards the bed.

“Yes.”

“Good thing, we’ve moved Charlotte into her brother’s room for tonight,” She smiled as she untied the bowtie she made perfect hours earlier.

*******

The sun peaked through the curtains but Christine was already stirring in her husband’s arms. Her stomach kept turning no matter how she tried to ignore it. She was able to wrap her dressing robe around her naked body and make it to their personal water closet.

Erik however still her heard coughing and heaving. Combining that with the lack of her warmth next to him he opened his eyes. “Angel?” He called sitting up. When she didn’t respond, he found his drawers on the floor and put them on before wrapping himself in his own dressing robe.

“Angel?” he knocked on the water closet door. “Are you okay?” He turned the handle, discovering the door was not locked. She was kneeling in front of the toilet with the lid up. Her wide eyes met his but it was only for a couple of seconds before she was face down into the toilet throwing up again.

The Phantom bent down and pulled her hair back. When she was done, he flushed the toilet, took a small towel off the rack and handed it to her. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub, “How long did you think I was going to believe dyspepsia?”

“I was hoping until the end of the season,” Christine wiped her mouth as she looked up at her husband. “I didn’t want you worrying. I was in a bit of disbelief myself. I sent a telegram to my midwife asking her and she said nursing is not completely infallible.”

Erik chuckled, before helping his wife to her feet, “Oh Christine, of course I’m going to worry; I worry about my family.” He embraced her, “But I am also so elated! I get to be a father again! We’re growing our family yet again!” 

He kissed her lightly and she smiled back, playing with a few of his exposed chest hairs, “Who would think, The Phantom of the Opera a family man?”

“You always say that as if you did not know normalcy was all I ever wanted from the beginning.”

“No, my voice for your music was what you wanted at the beginning,” She giggled as she tapped his nose.

“To bed with you!” He walked her back to their bed before getting her one of her nightgowns. He untied her dressing gown, and then helped her into the nightgown.

“Erik, I am perfectly capable of getting dressed. I am barely in my second month and this is my third pregnancy.”

“Yes, but that does not mean I cannot help my ill wife,” Erik helped put her dressing gown back on and tied it. He pulled the covers of the bed back. “I am only thinking of your health.”

“That wasn’t what you were thinking last night,” Christine smirked as she embraced her husband.

“I didn’t know last night,” he kissed her forehead.

“I’m glad. You wouldn’t have ravished me like you did if you had known.”

“Are you saying I am incapable of passionate physical pleasure when I know you are with child?” Concern filled The Phantom’s voice. “Did I not satisfy you at all while you carried Charlotte?”

“Erik, please…”

“If I had not just seen your morning sickness in action, I would be pushing you face down into the bed as we speak. But instead, under the covers now, Mrs. Y.” He walked over to the dresser where the pitcher and basin sat. He recovered the basin and sat it on her nightstand. He pulled the covers up over his wife and smiled, “Okay, you have everything you need to rest through it at the moment except for breakfast which I will get you. Toast and chamomile tea, correct?”

Christine smiled as she folded the towel, “Of course you remembered.”


	11. Nervousness

Christine paced back and forth in her dressing room, the black tiers of her costume dress bouncing around the black stockings of her exposed ankles, the cape of bat wings fluttering behind her. She paused and turned to Anne, her reliable maid and dresser. She placed her hands on her abdomen, “Am I showing, Anne?” The Soprano turned on her side and looked in the mirror. “My maternity corsets would not work with this ridiculous costume. Besides I do not believe I am at the stage for them yet.”

“I cannot tell you are with child, Madame,” Anne replied. “And why are you so concerned? You performed while you carried Charlotte.”

“Yes, but as soon as I started showing, I stopped. And I wasn’t performing any new songs.”

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Christine called.

Mr. Y entered standing tall in a brand-new crisp tux. He smiled at his wife, “My Angel!”

“Why did you dress me as a bat?” Christine stormed up to her husband. “What does this have to do with anything? And that hat? One of the songs is titled ‘Songbird’ and I’m a bat!”

“I am guessing this is the pregnancy, you are never really nervous.” Mr. Y looked over at the maid, “Thank you, Anne for your constant loyalty but I need to be alone with my wife at the moment. I am sure the Oh La La Girls can use your help.”

“Good luck tonight, Mrs. Y,” Anne curtsied and left the dressing room.

Erik locked the dressing room door behind Anne. “I did not realize the bat upset you so much. It was shown in several Masquerade catalogs, I thought maybe seeing the beautiful and talented Christine Daae in would start a trend.” He took her chin into his hand, “I wish you would have told me sooner.”

Christine’s eyes watered, “Oh Erik, it’s not the costume.” She turned and walked back to the vanity. She watched his reflection in the mirror, “I actually am nervous. These are new songs and I know it sounds mad, but I can already feel the quickening in my womb. And I am worried about next season. How am I going to perform in your opera with a newborn and a toddler?”

The Opera Ghost’s face melted into sadness, “Oh Christine.” In a few swift movements he was standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. He nuzzled the exposed side of his face into her updo, “Oh Christine, do not worry about next season. Tonight is all that should be on your mind, our music is all that should be on your mind. And then after that…” He spread his fingers out over her stomach, “This child.”

Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“That’s right, Angel,” he whispered in her ear. “Calm down. This is nothing you haven’t done before.” He kissed her jawline before moving back up to nibble on her earlobe.

“Erik,” The Soprano moaned softly.

He moved his lips over to her cheeks and as he did he slid his hands up over her breasts; leaving one there and moving one onto her throat.

“Erik!” The Soprano exclaimed trying to jerk away.

“I know what you need to ease your nerves. And we have just enough time,” He lips were on her ear again as he lightly squeezed the breast he held.

“Oh please, Angel,” she sighed leaning back into him and felt he was already decently aroused.

“What did you say?” He moved and purred into her other ear.

“I said, oh please, Angel,” She turned her head to look at him and as she did, his bloated lips caught hers. She’d already rouged them for the stage but that didn’t stop her husband from opening his mouth wider. She surprised him by pushing her tongue past his lips.

He groaned before pulling away and pushing her torso down onto the top of the vanity. She gasped as items clacked and rolled to either side of the vainity. The Diva held her head up and watched her husband’s actions reflected in the mirror. He pushed the black ruffles of her dress and petticoat up past her waist. His lips and the surrounding skin, now smeared red, smiled. There was also a red smudge on the corner of his mask closest to his lips. Christine could not help but giggle.

“I see someone bought a new pair of pretty panalettes for her costume,” Mr. Y ran his hand over her behind. “Much shorter than anything else you own; I am guessing to compensate for the shortness of the costume’s dress.” He moved his fingers down further and rubbed the large lace that trimmed the legs, “Such delicate and fine lace. I hope there is a wide gusset, I would not want to tear this.”

“Please do not tear the lace,” Christine shifted her body, spreading her legs wider. The gusset gave exposing the dark, bristly hair of her womanhood.

Erik’s fingers were quickly buried in the hair, finding her folds already slightly moist. A gasp escaped her lips as she watched his smile grow wider, “And how plump is your bud before I even touch it?”

“Do we have time for such teasing? You’re supposed to be releasing my anxiety!”

The Opera Ghost moved his slender fingers forward and rubbed the pleasure spot with his middle finger.

“Ohhhh!” Christine grabbed the back of the vanity for support.

He continued to rub it, “I’m not teasing, Angel. I promised you relief before you’re on.”

Christine’s knees buckled; she was on the edge of breaking when Erik pulled his finger away. He sucked it clean before stripping himself of his tux coat. Christine watched as he placed it gently on the couch before his fingers slipped under his waistcoat unbuttoning his suspenders from his slacks, front and back. He undid the buttons of the fly and pushed them to his ankles. He caught Christine’s inquisitive reflection in the mirror as she straightened her legs.

“I cannot risk wetness on my new tux when I have to wear it the rest of the night,” he informed unbuttoning his drawers. “I do not have the luxury of petticoats and skirts to hide such things.”

“Oh, you think petticoats and skirts are luxuries?” A tone of indignance entered Christine’s voice.

She was quickly distracted from this argument by feeling Erik’s warmth and tip at her opening. The next instant he was deep inside her, his hands tight on her waist, as the sound of their flesh smacking along with their cries of pleasure drowned out the backstage noise just beyond the locked dressing room door. The Diva’s knuckles whitened as she held tighter to the vanity. She met her husband’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection. His eyes were large, full of lust and love at the same time, his mouth agape as he groaned and gasped for air. He smiled as he slipped one of his hands around and once again caressed that pleasure mound.

“Oh, Angel!” Christine cried. Within a minute her body shivered. Her lids closed and she dropped her head to the vanity. She gasped for breath and felt her pounding heart and pulsing relief around Erik’s still thrusting cock. Erik’s climax shortly followed, a gurgle escaping his throat as he froze mid thrust. His whole body then melted against hers as he bent over and kissed her cheek.

Christine giggled as she grabbed a handkerchief from the small pile. She handed it to Mr. Y, “May you clean me up please? I still have to perform even with my petticoat.”

Erik chuckled as he finally withdrew and straightened himself. Husband and wife were silent as he wiped them both off, before he returned her petticoat and skirt to their correct position. Christine sighed as she sat down and located her container of cold cream and another handkerchief. She removed the color on her lips and reapplied it as her husband readjusted his new tux. When he was done, he approached her and ran his fingers lightly over her shoulders.

“Come here, Angel,” She commanded. “I cannot let you out there with my rouge all over your face and mask.”

“Is that so?” He bent down to face her. “What if I want all of Phantasma to know The Beautiful Christine Daae gives messy kisses before performances?”

“Are you sure you want to send the message that your wife is a wanton opera tart to all the potential new investors the Jones brought tonight?” She lifted the cold cream covered handkerchief to his face and wiped.

“It appears you have gotten over your anxiousness,” a sly grin played those puffy lips.

She slapped his cheek with the clean side of the handkerchief before giving him a smirk.

“Listen to the Stage Manager. Don’t forget your hat and gloves. I’ll be watching you, Angel,” Mr. Y kissed his wife’s forehead before standing back up and exiting the room.

Christine looked down at the floor where the bat head cap had landed during their enthralling activity. As she retrieved it, she smiled at the face, “You are still ridiculous and I doubt I will start any costume trends.”


	12. Dada

Phantasma ended the season on a high note despite the Page Six gossip. Christine’s shows of Mr. Y’s new arias were a total success. The Jones’ potential new investors were impressed and came through with donations for next season in general and for the promise of a completed opera.

As fall settled in, Gustave’s piano tutor was let go as Erik had time to teach his son again. His regular tutor returned and it was decided to hire an additional as the coming baby would prevent Christine from helping like she had. Charlotte continued to progress; adding more words to her repertoire, moving around the house faster in her walker to the point where Christine, exhausted by her expanding body, stopped chasing her.

Erik started work on his opera. He had plans to have it done by the start of spring; but there was always a new distraction. Sitting at the piano, eyes closed, the melody seeped through his fingers onto the keys.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._ Then a sharp point to his face. The melody was gone. His eyes opened to see a block landing on the piano keys. A giggle.

“Dada build house.”

He sighed as lifted the block off the keys and looked down to see Charlotte had already started construction on the piano bench. In the tray of her walker were several more blocks and her smallest doll.

“Dada is working, darling,” He leaned over and sat the block back on the tray.

“No! Dada build house for Mary,” Charlotte held up her doll.

“You can build a house for Mary,” Erik stood taking the all the blocks, sitting them on the floor beside the bench. He then lifted Charlotte out of her walker, doll still in her hand, and sat her in front of the blocks.

He sat back down at the piano and closed his eyes, trying to will the melody back to him. Music echoed through the room when he felt little hands tugging at his pants.

“No! Dada build with me!”

Mr. Y looked down to his daughter who had made her way over to him, using him and the piano bench as support to stand up. She’d be walking on her own in no time.

“Dada build with me!” She pulled tighter on his pants. “Dada build with me!” Tears ran down her cheeks and she started to cry.

“Charlotte, please,” Erik tried to pry his daughter’s hands from his pants so he could lift her up, but she wouldn’t let go.

She cried louder.

He pushed the bench out; she came with him almost tripping over her dress.

Now she screamed, “Dada!”

“Charlotte, give me your hands,” Erik said through his teeth, his hands completely drowning her little ones.

She sniffled, snot running down her lips.

“Charlotte, you’re being ridiculous!”

“I’d say you’re the one being ridiculous,” Christine walked into the room. She squatted down as fast as her stomach would let her and lifted Charlotte up from her husband’s leg. The girl wiped her nose on her mother’s tea dress as Christine rubbed her head, “Come on, you need a nap.” Her eyes narrowed at The Phantom before she turned around and left the room.

Erik slammed down the cover over the keys. He scanned over the music notes on the paper; he ripped it up and tossed it on the floor before walking out of the room.

*******

The front door opened in the late evening and he heard light chatter coming from the dining room. He opened the door and the talking stopped. Christine and Gustave looked up; Charlotte was way too engaged in the small pieces of potatoes on her high chair table.

“Your plate is on the warmer by the fire place, if you’re hungry and care to join us,” Christine simply stated.

“Yes, thank you,” He sat down the brown paper bags in his hands before grabbing his plate with a pot holder and sitting down in the empty chair at the front of the table.

Charlotte’s high chair was at the corner between him and Christine’s chair. She turned to her father, holding a chunk of potato out, “Tato, Dada?”

“Why yes, I would love one,” he leaned over opening his mouth and Charlotte placed it on his tongue. Once her hand was away, he chewed and swallowed the cold potato with a smile on his face. He then took her hand and kissed it, “Thank you.”

Charlotte giggled and then put a potato in her mouth. Christine looked down, rubbed her stomach and smiled. The Phantom ate several bites of the roast before he spoke again.

“How were your lessons today, Gustave?”

“My new lessons in Mathematics are easier than I thought. We’re talking of going to the Natural History museum when I finish the next couple chapters of my science book.”

“That sounds like a splendid time!” Erik poured himself a glass of wine.

“Tato, Dada!”

“Yes, Charlotte, potato,” he turned to face her but instead she dropped it on his plate.

Gustave laughed as Christine took a sip of her tea before speaking, “She’s our child; vexing like you but a daddy’s girl like me, even when he disappoints her.”

Erik looked away from his wife, picked up the potato and ate it.

“What’s in the bags, Papa?” Gustave looked at the other end of the table.

“A gift for your sister…and you of course.”

The boy smiled.

“After dinner though.”

*******

The family gathered in the parlor after dinner: Gustave legs hanging over the arms of the leather chair as he read the copy of The Hunchback of Notre Dame in their native French his father bought him, Christine relaxed on the chaise lounge, hands on her stomach, as she watched Erik on the floor with Charlotte a whole new container of wooden blocks added to what she already had. Mary the doll sat on the Turkish Rug as a mansion was built around her.

“Did you get yourself some new paper?” Christine asked. I found what you were working tore up and scattered among the blocks.”

“I did,” He made a new wall of blocks. “I wasn’t happy with what I wrote.”

“If you say so, Angel,” She gave him a knowing smirk.

“No Dada! Here!” Charlotte patted the rug before making an irrelevant tower.

It was no where near the doll but The Phantom obliged his demanding daughter. She clapped and smiled. It was worth it.


	13. Sacrifices and Promises

Christine spun the vestibule’s door back and forth sometimes pausing it to look into the old bed room. There was a sudden quickening in her womb and she put her hands over where it was happening and rubbed.

“Oh little one, please look like more like your mother than your father. I do not know if he can handle another,” The Soprano whispered looking down at her stomach.

“Angel, what are you in here for?” Erik walked into his work room. “There’s no fire or stove on, you’re going to catch a cold. We cannot have you in that state.”

“I am fine, I haven’t been in here long. Just long enough to be thinking.”

He cuddled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her above her stomach, “Are you letting your mind wander?”

“Kind of,” She rested her head against his shoulder. “With the new baby coming and Charlotte getting bigger; I was thinking it’s time we make an actual nursery. We can move Charlotte into it because the new baby will need the bassinette in our room. And eventually the new baby and Charlotte can share.”

“And you are thinking my work room would make a great nursery?”

“Isn’t it way past time you give yourself a proper work room on the Phantasma property? You can make it so much bigger. And then our house will be only for what it’s supposed to be for: our family.”

“Family…” Erik whispered and walked away. He looked at all his tools organized and hanging in their proper place. “This house was already on the land. I claimed it; fixing it up allowing myself the music room, a library, this work room and my bedroom. What more did a man like me really need? I was never going to have a family.”

The Soprano replied not caring if it was rhetorical or not, “Well you do and sacrifices will have to be made. I already cut my performance schedule when I didn’t want to.”

“I guess I can build a separate work building behind the house.”

“Yes, and you can build it as big as you want,” Christine leaned against the work bench.

Erik smiled at his wife, “I don’t think I can get that built in time but I promise to get this cleared out and renovated before the baby is born.” He leaned over and kissed her passionately. He ran his hands up the sides of her curves, cupping her breasts, as his lips moved to nibbled on her earlobe.

Her nipples peaked, she giggled and turned her head, “Erik, please!”

“Please what?” with her turned head he brushed his lips along her jawline.

“There’s not exactly anywhere comfortable to do what you’re leading us to, in my current state, in this room. Besides, Gustave has a key to this room.”

“Of course he does, clever child. However,” Erik pulled his wife into the vestibule and spun its door around. “He doesn’t have a key to this room. And there is a bed in here.” He opened the door and locked it behind them. The afternoon light was bright through the windows.

“Besides if this to become part of the nursery, I cannot think of a better way to end its days as my bachelor room than consummating it with the real Christine Daae, big with my child.”

“I am not that big yet, Mister. In a month or two I will be and movement too awkward for such spontaneous trysts.” She laced her fingers with his and walked him over to the bed.

He watched as her peach tea dress swirled around her body, exposing her white slippers. She took to dressing relaxed and causal around the house with this pregnancy. She saved the maternity corsets and dresses she had held back from her pregnancy with Charlotte for when she left the house.

Erik helped his wife up onto bed. They removed their shoes before sitting side by side kissing, his hands gently caressing her throat, her breasts through her dress where he felt wet spots form.

“It’s okay,” Christine pulled away. “Do you want to take your mask and wig off? I want to run my fingers through your actual hair.”

The Phantom obeyed, placing them on the old night stand, “Better?”

Christine smiled, caressing the deformed cheek before twirling the gray wisps of hair on his head, “Yes.”

He closed the space between them again and allowed their lips to meet as he guided her down onto the bed so they were still on their sides, facing each other.

“I’m not taking my dress off, Erik,” she pressed her forehead against his, her nails caressing his scalp. “Despite feeling lascivious, I’m not feeling exactly beautiful.”

“And yet you made me take off my mask. Do you think I’m feeling beautiful?”

Christine laughed, “I’ll take my bloomers off, so you won’t have to worry about finding the gusset.” As she moved to the edge of the bed and stood, finding it easier to remover her undergarment that way; Erik removed a few layers of clothing himself. His waistcoat and suspenders went to the floor before he undid his pants and drawers, pushing them to his ankles. He wrapped his hand around his cock and rubbed it up and down, engorging it more. Cowper's fluid ran down the tip.

“Angel, you don’t have to start taking care of yourself until a couple of months.”

He opened his eyes and saw his wife crawling towards him. “I…I wasn’t I was just readying myself a bit more.”

The Soprano saw the shame in his eyes and caressed his check, “I jest.” She kissed him before crawling on top to straddle him.

Erik moved his hand from himself to his angel’s cunt, “I can ready you…” His eyes widen and he chuckled. “I seemed to have forgotten what pregnancy does to your womanhood.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want the extra attention.” She rocked back and lifted her dress, exposing her swollen lips to her husband. “As I have told you before, I am wanton woman, not fit for society,” her voice was sultry and Mr. Y instantly gave into her demands. He rubbed her drenched pleasure mound and lips, bringing her to a quick quivering climax before she engulfed him.

She was slow and deliberated with her lovemaking, having already received some relief. Her husband however groaned in frustration. “Faster,” He grabbed her hips and pushed up at a rhythm much more to his satisfaction. In trying to find his bliss he slipped out a couple of times.

“Erik! Did you also forget how pregnancy makes my womanhood extra moist?” She held his cheeks. “Let me control and I promise we will both find release.”

***

As promised The Diva and The Phantom both found their release. Exhausted but contented; Christine dozed off, curled up on her side.

Once he redressed, Erik curled up behind his wife. “Christine, I love you,” he whispered into her ear. She stirred, her dress shifting. It was already bunched mid-thigh exposing skin since she was only wearing her stockings to her knees right now and her bloomers were off. _“Despite feeling lascivious, I’m not feeling exactly beautiful.”_ Her words echoed through the Opera Ghost’s mind.

He sat up. She had not let him see her bare stomach in a couple of months. And he had respected it…until now. He pushed the dress and chemise up. There were new bright red stretch marks, he could see the white faded ones from when she carried Charlotte. Gustave’s were there somewhere too but too old to be noticed. He gazed just a bit further over and up. There it was. It was more distended than it has ever been and was currently more red than brown. That damned scar from that damned night when she was shot and he almost lost her again. Mr. Y cried. Maybe this was what she was hiding from him. He didn’t recall it being like this with Charlotte.

He leaned over and covered the scar in kisses. His Christine had sacrificed so much, too much for him. Their children deserved the best nursery. She deserved the best opera all of man had ever seen. He pulled her dress all the way back down to her ankles.

She stirred again, “Angel?”

“You rest,” he whispered in her ear. “I will come back and get you when it’s supper.”

Christine sighed and smiled as she closed her eyes again. He turned on the stove heater in the room before leaving to plan out exactly the new nursery.


	14. Perfect

It was an unseasonably warm February afternoon when Christine went into labor. She braced herself against the dining room wall, her knees buckling as she felt the flush of fluid down her legs.

Gustave looked up from his lunch, “Mama, are you okay?”

“Gustave, go get your father.”

*******

While Erik had kept his promise to set up the nursery, he had yet to remove the bed saying it would be better for her to give birth there. Upper body propped up on pillows, Christine wailed as another contraction happened. She squeezed Erik’s hand, crushing his fingers as she pushed her heels into the bed.

The Phantom grimaced at the pain but said nothing; he knew it was nothing compared to what caused his wife to squeeze his hand. With his free hand, he lifted the wet hand towel and wiped her sweaty forehead.

“Where is the doctor and the midwife?” Christine asked taking deep breaths. “The contractions are getting closer together.”

“You know I sent for them. It’s probably the melting snow on the streets. And you’re coming along faster than you did with Charlotte.”

They heard the door open and, in a few seconds, a short older woman walked through entrance way where the vestibule used to be. “I see I am first to arrive,” she walked over to the bed with her black bag. “How are we doing, Mrs. Y?”

“The baby is coming faster than we thought,” Mr. Y spoke instead.

“Well let’s just see,” The midwife lifted Christine’s nightgown and pushed her legs open wider. Her eyes widen, “Oh Dear, yes it is!” She looked up at the small table in the room, “I see you two sat up what we could possibly need for the delivery.”

The Soprano moaned and shifted as another contraction started. Once it was over, Erik lifted a glass of water to her lips and she took a sip.

The older woman moved a wooden chair to the edge of the bed, sitting down in front of Christine’s spread legs. “Roll up your sleeves, Mr. Y. This baby is coming without the doctor.”

*******

Unlike the doctor with Charlotte, the midwife said nothing other than, “It’s a girl!” when the crying could be heard. Father and mother waited with baited breath neither of them wanting to acknowledge their shared thought.

The old woman stood, the child bundled in a clean blanket and placed it in Christine’s arms. The mother made short work of undoing the blanket; the red wrinkled, small thing squirmed. Ten fingers, ten toes, her skull and face completely formed; there was even barely visible fuzzy hair on her head. On the right side of her face, just under her chin, a small port wine birthmark.

“She’s small but she’s very healthy,” The midwife smiled. “Congratulations!”

Christine smiled at the baby as she wrapped her back up in the blanket and held her tight, “Isn’t she beautiful, Erik?” She looked up at her husband, only to see tears running down his cheeks.

“She’s…she’s…perfect,” He whispered. “What happened this time? How can I poison one girl and not another? And Gustave a perfect boy.” He stormed past the midwife into the nursery and sat down onto the chaise lounge. The Phantom tossed his mask to the floor and cried into his hands.

At that moment, the door opened and the doctor finally walked in. He gasped seeing the distressed father.

“Mr. Y is everything okay? Am I too late?”

“She’s perfect. My daughter is perfect and my wife is fine,” he didn’t look up not waning to expose his face.


	15. Daughters

He did not know exactly how much time had passed, when both the doctor and the midwife stood in front of him. Erik was thankful he had passed his fit and put his mask back on.

“Mr. Y, your wife and baby are perfectly healthy,” The Doctor explained. “She expelled the afterbirth with no issues and shows no signs of bleeding. All that performing has made her a fit woman; through she still needs her rest and to heal.”

“She wants to see you,” The Midwife spoke. “She’s been asking for you since you stormed from the room. I told her let him have a break; this can be overwhelming for a husband.”

The Phantom took a deep breath as he stood and walked back into the room. He turned the electric lights on as the day had started to pass into evening. The room was cleared of every sign of the physical act of childbirth that was there before he left. He figured his wife must have told them about the secret door as a way to dispose of things because they did not walk past him once. Christine was in a clean nightgown, it looked as if the Midwife had washed her and brushed her hair. She was under fresh sheets, propped up against pillows; their new daughter sucking at her breast.

She looked up from the baby and at her husband, “I know why you left.”

“You look exhausted, Christine. Sleep we can talk later.”

“No, come sit.”

Erik obeyed and sat next to his wife on the empty side of the bed. He looked down at the baby and smiled, “We haven’t even discussed names.”

“Why are you upset she’s not deformed? Gustave isn’t deformed.”

“Gustave is a boy. It’s cruel for nature to give one daughter her mother’s face and the other her father’s deformed. How can I love them equally when…”

“Erik! Do not be ridiculous!” Christine rebundled the baby into the blanket “You are a splendid father; giving all the love you never had as a child to all our children.” She placed the baby in his arms before readjusting her nightgown.

He gasped and smiled as he watched her wiggle, “Oh what a dear little girl!” He adjusted her in his one arm and removed his mask and wig, “Welcome to the world, welcome to our family!” Erik started to cry again. “I am your Papa,” he kissed her forehead and held her close.

Christine smiled large as she rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, “So does Papa want to help pick out a name?”

*******

When Erik walked into the parlor, Gustave jumped up from the floor and ran to his father. He hugged the boy tight, “You have a new baby sister and you Mama is alright. She’s resting right now.”

“Another sister?” Gustave looked up at his father. “Am I going to have to protect her like Charlotte?”

“Dada!” Charlotte looked up from the biscuit she was eating. She dropped it on the coffee table and waddled over to her father.

“There’s my darling!” Erik let go of his son and scooped up his Charlotte as soon as she reached him. He smothered her deformity in kisses. She giggled and squirmed before putting her hands on his face, “Dada, I took long nap. Mary got big house see?” She pointed to a large pile of blocks around the doll.

Erik smiled, “I see. You are so talented. You know what else you are? You’re a big sister.”

“I’m sister.”

“When can we see mother?” Gustave asked.

“After we eat dinner.”

*******

The Phantom knocked softly on the wall beside the opening between the nursery and the bedroom where Christine had spent all day. Gustave however did not wait for an answer.

“Mother?” He stuck his head through.

“Gustave! Come here!” Christine smiled and stretched her arms out to her son.

He walked over to his mother and gave her hug. He then looked down beside her and there was the baby laying beside her thigh, wrapped up tight in a blanket. It still squirmed and wiggled.

“I see she woke up,” Christine picked up the baby. “Say hello to your new sister, Matilda.”

“She looks nothing like Papa. She looks more like you and me.”

“How can you say that? She has a birthmark just like Papa and Charlotte,” Christine tilted the baby girl’s head back so Gustave could see the Port Wine mark.

“You do not have to be gentle, Christine. You can say it, Matilda isn’t deformed like your father and Charlotte,” Erik walked into the room Charlotte wrapped around his hip. “He knows and the truth.”

Christine sighed and rolled her eyes.

Mr. Y sat down at the foot of the bed and Charlotte swiftly crawled to her mother.

“Mama, I’m sister, Dada said,” Charlotte’s eyes widen as she looked at the baby in her mother’s arms. “New doll?”

The Soprano laughed, “No darling. This is your little sister, Matilda. You are now big sister Charlotte and this is little sister Matilda.”

Charlotte squinted her eyes and looked at the baby again, “No, I’m the sister.”

“You are both my sisters, Charlotte,” Gustave sat down on the edge of the bed facing Charlotte. He held his hands out to her and she took them. “I am your big brother and Matilda’s big brother. You are now Matilda’s big sister.”

“No, I’m your little sister,” Charlotte threw arms around her brother. “I’m your little sister, Gustave.” She started crying.

“Don’t cry; you’re still my little sister,” Gustave hugged her and caressed the side of her head with the deformity.

She wiped her nose on his sleeve before smiling at him. She then laid down next to her mother, “I’m still the sister, Mama.”

Erik sighed and shook his head, but there was still a smile on his face.

*******

Christine stayed on bed rest for a few more days, while Erik made arrangements for a second nanny to be hired. The notes of his opera haunted his mind, but he spent his days with Charlotte allowing Mary to spend her time helping with Matilda.

The nursery is where Erik kept Charlotte hoping to acclimate her to her new room. There was a dollhouse, several new dolls, a low to the floor table covered in blocks and animal figurines. There were of course more blocks on the floor. Christine was unaware how many new and different sets Erik had indulged in getting for Charlotte.

She was sitting on his lap, he reading her some fairy tales, when she started to fall asleep mid-afternoon. The Phantom saw this as the perfect opportunity. He sat the book down on the table before carrying her over to the crib in the room. He prided himself on covering her up without waking her. Her first nap in her new crib and new room, perfect preparation for her to start sleeping in there.

“When she wakes up screaming because she’s in an unfamiliar place, that is all you,” Christine stood in the walkway between the nursery and bedroom, Matilda in her arms, smirking at her husband.

“And when she does, I’ll tell her Dada made it just for her and then she’ll love it.”

“You spoil her terribly, Erik. You’re going to turn Charlotte into a brat.”

“I never heard you complain about my spoiling you,” The Phantom kissed his wife’s cheek.

She handed the baby to Erik, “She’s fed and freshly changed. You should be good for some time.” Husband and wife left the nursery to set in their master bedroom. She laid back on the chaise lounge and closed her eyes, “I am so exhausted.”

“I finished the interviews and the additional nanny starts Monday,” Erik paused and took a deep breath. “She’s also willing to be a wet nurse if you so desire.”

Christine opened her eyes and looked at her husband, “Erik, I thought you…”

He held his hand up, “We’ve been talking about making sacrifices and I have been thinking. If we want to have our family and still debut the opera this summer, I realized a wet nurse part of the time would not be so awful.” He rubbed Matilda’s back softly.

The Soprano smiled, “Come here, Angel.”

The Phantom walked over to his wife and she kissed him passionately.

“I’m looking forward to having you back in our bed tonight. I’ve missed being able to hold you,” Erik let his forehead rest against his wife’s.

“Are you sure? Matilda’s going to be in the bassinet now; waking up every couple of hours wanting to be fed or changed. And the changes are all yours.”

Erik stood completely back up and looked down at his new daughter, “Yes, the endless demands of an infant do not understand the concept of time.” He kissed her cheek softly. She put her little hand on his mouth in response.

“And do not forget Charlotte will still need changing. We need to start toilet training her soon.” Christine sighed and closed her eyes.

From down the hall, there were cries followed by sobbing words, “Dada! Dada!” Then more cries.

“She’s calling for you, not me,” Christine chuckled as she turned on her side. “I am going to take a nap.”

Erik placed Matilda in the bassinet, “Enjoy your rest.” The Phantom closed their bedroom door and walked back down the hall reconsidering his desire to be a family man.


	16. Birds and Bees

As winter melted into spring, Erik worked his hardest to make sure he and his wife did not lose their identity as musicians as they cared for their children. He would lock himself in the music room, pounding on the piano, followed by moments of silence as he transcribed. Some afternoons Christine would join him, her voice filling the house from roof to foundation. Other afternoons Gustave would join his father for his music lessons.

Mr. Y however started to noticed the boy’s moods were different. He was in his early teens now and that bodily change from boy to man was soon to start, if hadn’t already.

Gustave looked out the window his fingers on the keys and sighed. Erik shuffled the music on the piano’s music stand, “What is the matter, son?”

“When is your new workshop going to be finished? I miss doing that with you. This opera can’t be the only new thing you’re working on for Phantasma. You’re always so busy with it and Mama and before you know it’ll be mating season again and I’ll have another sister,” He slouched on the bench and crossed his arms.

“Mating season?” The Phantom was so flabbergasted by that last statement he couldn’t address his son’s other feelings.

“Yes,” The boy simply replied. “In my biology lessons I’ve been learning about mammal life cycles and…”

“No Gustave, no!” Erik exclaimed, the exposed side of his face bright red. “Humans do not have mating seasons.”

“You and Mama seem to; either at the opening or closing of Phantasma.”

“Well…that wasn’t planned. And you were born before Phantasma existed.”

“So, then you and Mama will not be having another child this year? And how come she never had one with Mr. de Chagny?”

“Gustave now is not the time for this conversation!” Erik snapped. “Now come on, let us start some scales for warm up.”

*******

The family was gathered around the breakfast table, Christine eating a great deal of scrambled egg as Matilda suckled at her breast. “Erik I will not be available today for practice; I have some errands to run.”

“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” Erik asked after he finished a sip of his coffee.

“I did not realize just how many of my tops were tight in the bust until this morning. I am taking them to the seamstress. I can barely fit this one. I cannot keep wearing tea dresses; especially after I’ve received a few calling cards. I also need to order Charlotte a new dress or two, she’s growing so fast.”

“Maybe it is time we get her something other than white,” Erik looked lovingly at the girl as she lifted pieces of egg off her plate and put them into her mouth. “Would you like a nice spring green, Charlotte?”

“No, colors for her until she is fully toilet trained and can use a fork.”

“Dada said I can have green dress. I can use fork,” Charlotte picked up more egg and put it in her mouth.

“What about you, Gustave? You’ve seemed to have grown, your slacks are looking a little short. Do you want to come with for some measurements?”

“I get a green dress, remember, Mama!”

“Maybe another time,” The boy put some butter on a piece of toast.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Matilda no longer sucked at Christine’s breast; instead she grabbed at it with her little fingers. The Diva pulled the infant away and rebuttoned her top, it straining to stay that way.

“Mary gets a green dress too?” Charlotte looked at her dad

“No Charlotte,” Christine looked at her older daughter as she adjusted the infant. “Mary and all her friends have plenty of dresses.”

“But not green. Dada tell her not green!” She started to kick her feet through the holes in her high chair.

“Charlotte, that is enough do not upset Mama,” Erik leaned over and rubbed her head. Her hair was filling in but her deformity was still fairly visible. And of course, there was the one still on her face.

Gustave pushed his chair out, “Excuse me, I’m going to go read.” The boy exited the dining room fast.

A few minutes later, Mary entered the dining room, “Mrs. Y did you want me to help with Matilda until Alice arrives since you just fed her?”

Christine smiled at the nanny, “Mary, what would we do without you?” She stood and handed the woman Matilda. “Mr. Y will still be here, disciplining Charlotte if you should need anything.” She looked sternly at her husband before heading out of the room.

*******

The Soprano took a carriage out of Coney Island and into Brooklyn proper stopping first at her favorite seamstress. It was run by a couple of spinster sisters a few years older than Christine.

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen you, Mrs. Y!” The one up front exclaimed. “How can we help you?”

“My tops,” Christine sat a small carpet bag on the counter “They are tight in the bust. I wanted the seams let out so I could have just a bit more room.”

“The new baby?”

Christine bashfully smiled and looked down at the floor.

“It is alright. Come on into the back and we will get you measured.”

*******

The Soprano had not mentioned the next stop to her husband. She hesitated outside the house before finally turning the doorbell. Again, she was greeted by a woman a few years older than herself. She handed the woman her calling card, “If she is available and willing to see me now, I would greatly appreciate it.”

The woman smiled, “I think she will. Come in and wait a minute.”

Christine waited in the hallway of the house and in a few minutes her midwife walked up the hallway.

“Christine!” the old woman exclaimed giving her an embrace. “I am so happy to see you! How are you? How is the baby?”

Christine smiled large, “We are all doing well. Do you have a more private place we can talk?”

“Of course,” The elder woman led The Soprano to a small room in the back. It had a bed and right next to it a desk with several drawers where the midwife’s bag sat on top. There was a door that opened right into a water closet.

“It is okay, Christine. This is my private practice room. Not all women are keen on these male doctors taking over birthing. I was surprised you had both.”

“Well I was supposed to have both,” Christine corrected with a chuckle. “I was relieved you got there first. I had only a midwife with Gustave back in France. However, Mr. Y insisted on a doctor with Charlotte, after seeing how they saved me from death when I was shot. I insisted on at least adding you for Matilda.”

“Sit, Dear,” The older lady took Christine’s hands and they both sat down on the bed. “I have a feeling this isn’t what you’re here to discuss.”

The Diva’s face went crimson as she turned away. The midwife squeezed her hands, “There is no need to be embarrassed.”

Christine took a deep breath and turned back, “Mr. Y and I are…very affectionate with each other. However we do not…”

“Say no more,” The older woman interrupted. “I know exactly what you need.” She got up and walked over to the desk and opened one of the drawers and looked into for a minute before removing a metal tin. “This is a womb veil. This one should fit you perfectly.” She handed it to The Soprano, “You and Mr. Y can be ‘loveable’ beforehand; I actually recommend it, it will actually make inserting easier. Make sure it is capped over your womb before you become completely ‘affectionate.’”

Christine opened the tin and looked at the little round rubber device, perplexed, “Do I wear this all the time after…”

“No, Dear, did you not,” The midwife sat down again. “Take it out the morning after. Do not forget to wash it and you if you so desire you can douche.”

Christine bit her lower lip, “What if Mr. Y and I aren’t only affectionate at night? And is it possible for me to buy two?”

“You do not need two right now. When this one starts to wear out, come see me right away.”

“No, not for that,” Christine looked sheepish. “I would like the other one to keep in my dressing room vanity.”

The elder lady chuckled, “Two affectionate performers, finding a private place in their theatre. I understand.”

*******

Mary entered the nursery and Mr. Y smiled at her, “Thank you, Mary.” He then turned to Charlotte who was sitting her dolls in chairs in the dollhouse, “Darling, Miss Mary is going to play with you for a bit. I am going to play with your brother Gustave.”

“Gustave, is going to play with us?”

He chuckled, “No Gustave and I are going to play. Be a good girl, remember?” He kissed her cheek before leaving the room.

Erik smiled as he walked down the hall to his son’s room. _What a joyous day, he is going to be so excited to see the progress on the workshop!_ “Gustave, come I have a surprise for you!” He knocked on the door before turning the doorknob and pushing it open.

Now The Phantom of the Opera had seen many things in his time, but he was not prepared for this. Spread open on the bed were the books his son had took from the library for reading, Gray’s Anatomy and The Kama Sutra. Sitting in front of the book was Gustave, his son clearly not so little anymore. His slacks were down and his hand wrapped around his member rubbing it up and down.

“Oh my God, Father!” The boy exclaimed throwing himself down on his side facing away from his father. He tried to cover the books as he adjusted himself.

Erik closed the door instantly and headed downstairs to the library. He needed a drink and to discover what other books his son had discovered.


	17. Growing Pains

Erik sat in the library holding his wine glass staring at the shelves looking for missing books, only for his mind to think back to what he had witnessed earlier. He gulped down the wine and slammed the glass down on the table. It shattered and startled him out of his trance. Anger better taken out on stemware than his son. His son, when had Gustave grown up? When had he’d started changing into a young man? Had he been so focused on his growing daughter that he missed the signs his son was going through the life changes?

There was a knock on the library door.

“Yes?” Erik asked turning towards it.

Gustave slowly walked in, his shoulders slouched, his head hung, gaze at the floor. In his arms were the books that were on his bed, “I brought back your books.”

“Did you clean up before touching them?”

“Yes. I changed my drawers and slacks as well. I am sorry I disgusted you, Father.” The boy was crestfallen.

The Phantom sighed, “Come here, Gustave. Sit.”

The boy sat next to his father on the leather couch. Erik took the books from him and sat them on the table. He placed his hands on his son’s shoulders, “I am not disgusted. Startled would be a better word.”

Gustave furrowed his brow, “I…I don’t understand.”

Mr. Y swallowed, “You know you how told me you learned about animals’ mating cycles and you thought your mother and I had one? Humans do not have a mating cycle.” He let go of his son and picked up Gray’s Anatomy. He tapped his fingers on the book. “You’re going through changes that are making you a man who will be able create children of your own.”

“What does that have to with how I am feeling? Or why does what I was doing feel so exhilarating?”

“How much of the chapters on the reproduction did you read?” Erik opened the book skimming the table of contents looking for those chapters.

“Not too much. I much confess I found the illustrations in The Kama Sutra more engaging.”

Erik could not help but smile to himself as he turned to “The Male Organs of Generation” in Gray’s Anatomy. “You have no need for such a book right now, young man. However, you will read this chapter to learn your own anatomy. You will then read the next chapter to acquaint yourself with the anatomy of the fairer sex. A good man will not treat a lady as something not to be understood. Knowing a woman’s mind and body is the secret to love and happiness.” He handed the book to his son, “Now sit here and read both of these chapters two times.”

Gustave looked down at the book and then up at his father who now walked with The Kama Sutra over to a bookshelf and put it back.

“You’re not mad at me?”

The Phantom smiled at his son as he walked back, “No! I am angrier at myself for brushing off your earlier questions and being so wrapped up in the opera, Charlotte’s growth and making sure your mother was well during her pregnancy, I missed the signs this was happening to you.” He rubbed the top of his son’s head as he had done so many times. “When you’re finished, I’ll be in the music room. Come get me and we will finish this talk. But a word of advice for the moment; what I walked in on…there is a time. It is at night, at bedtime. If you need to excuse yourself and go to bed a littler earlier; so be it. And take off your slacks.”

*******

Erik closed the bedroom door behind him and Christine was not to be found. Matilda was covered tightly in her bassinette, her eyes slowly starting to close. He leaned in and kissed her, “Good night, darling.”

The water closet door opened and Christine walked out and smiled at the scene in front of her, “I am impressed and relieved by how much more she sleeps compared to what her sister and brother did.”

“Her sister still does not want to sleep,” Erik walked over and stirred the fire. “Mary and her friends must be set just so. The blanket tucked here not there, Dada. I must read her favorite story. If not there will be crying.”

Christine chuckled as she walked over to the bed, “Someone sounds just like her Dada. ‘Did I not say Box Five was to remain empty?’”

The Phantom glared at his wife.

She smiled, “You don’t frighten me anymore, Erik.”

He removed his dressing robe and pulled the covers back on their bed. Christine held the post of the bed as she observed the furrow on his brow, “Angel, are you okay?”

“I am just reminded how easier it was to be the threatening Phantom and the mysterious Angel of Music than a father.” He laid down on the bed looking up at the ceiling.

“And what about being a husband?” Christine laid her head on his chest. “And were you truly happy as the Opera Ghost? How many times to you remind me all you ever wanted was to be a normal man with a wife and a family?” She lifted her hand and caressed the deformed side of his face. “What exactly happened today while I was taking care of my errands? Charlotte is still a brat so I can only assume very little disciplining happened.”

“Gustave is becoming a man. He’s going through puberty and I had not noticed.”

Christine smiled to herself, “Is that all? I had a feeling he had started; his voice has been breaking off and on and his slacks are getting shorter.” She caressed her husband’s cheek again, “I did not realize you would get so sentimental about it.”

Erik sat up, “No! I went to surprise him with a trip to tour the progress on the workshop and I…I…” He turned away. “I cannot even look at you, Christine and say it! I walked in on him pleasuring himself!” He turned to face her again, “I had to give him a human anatomy lesson on reproduction and I made him read the corresponding chapters in Gray’s Anatomy. I wasn’t prepared for any this!”

The old Opera Ghost sank back onto the bed facing away from his wife. “I don’t even know how I did because I did not have anyone to guide me through that. I was just a side show oddity at his age.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she ran her fingers through his husband’s hair, “You didn’t shame him, did you?”

“Of course not! You know I do not subscribe to that morality. He wouldn’t be here if I did.”

Christine let out a soft laugh, “Thankfully both of his parents agree.”

Erik turned and looked up at his wife, “Why are you crying?”

“I am sure you did a wonderful job talking with Gustave and I am proud of you for that. It still breaks my heart to hear of all the pain you went through; but you have come so far from that boy; from the man you used be. There is nothing I would go back or change about us.” Christine unbuttoned her nightgown exposing her right breast. She leaned back onto the pillows and held her arms out, “Come here, Angel.”

The Phantom curled up beside The Soprano. He leaned over and latched onto her breast and drank her soothing cream. The first time he had indulged since she had given birth to Matilda.


	18. Finding The Rhythm Again

When The Phantom of the Opera woke, he found himself still nestled on Christine’s breast. The moment he sat up, she stirred and wrapped her arms around him, “It’s early, do not leave me.”

“Why did you assume I was leaving?” He turned so he looked right into his wife’s eyes.

“Usually when you wake before me, you attend right to Charlotte.”

He arched his eyebrow, “If I recall correctly, she needs placating like her father. The sooner you start it the quieter she is.”

“Matilda isn’t even awake yet.”

“You said yourself she sleeps more than her sister and brother.”

Christine sighed, “Are you going to make me beg?” She took his face into her hands and kissed him passionately. She fell back onto the bed, pulling him down on top of her. She opened her mouth, pushing her tongue past his lips.

Erik pulled away, wide eyed, “Christine…”

“Angel, we haven’t made love since I’ve healed. It’s been three months since I gave birth. You weren’t like this after Charlotte.”

He gently ran his fingers down her jawline and over her throat, “I don’t want to risk getting you pregnant again so soon. However, if you have desires, I will gladly satisfy them…”

“You’ve barely let me pleasure you during this time, you must be aching too,” The Diva whispered caressing her husband’s scalp. Christine pushed her loins up into his, “I can feel it stirring.”

The Phantom closed his eyes and groaned.

“I never got to show you what else I picked up during my errands yesterday,” Christine smiled. “Pick up that little tin box on my nightstand.”

Perplexed he sat up on his knees, reached over and picked up the tin. He opened it, “What is it?”

Christine took the tin, “I got it from the midwife; it’s a womb veil. You will not have to worry about getting me pregnant with it.”

A wide smile formed on those bloated lips, “Ah Christine!” He pushed her back down into the bed with a kiss. He trailed her lips down her cheek and throat, “Why didn’t you tell me last night? Why didn’t we know about this sooner? Do you want me to help you insert it?”

“I was informed it will be easier to insert if I am wet.”

Nimble fingers undid more buttons on her nightgown before caressing her swollen breasts, “I asked if you wanted me to help you insert it.”

Giggles escaped her lips as she sat the tin on the bed, “Yes, Angel, yes!”

*******

The Phantom sat propped up against the headboard, his Christine spanning his lap, nude. She rocked softly against him finishing the crescendo of her climax. One of Erik’s hands was tangled in her hair, the other under her, slowly bringing the motions of his fingers on her pleasure mound to a stop.

She sighed loud, resting her head against his bare chest, “Thank you, Angel.” She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Don’t thank me,” Erik grumbled removing his hand from under her and wrapping it around her waist. “It has been some time…we will find our rhythm again. I can recover my endurance.”

She placed light kisses on his chest, “You say that as if you did not pleasure me at all. Yes, I will be sore and…” She raised her head and smiled softly. She wiped away a tear running down his cheek, “As you said we will find our rhythm again. And I hope fast since I have the womb veil.” As she leaned in to kiss him there was a knock at the door.

“I know what crying in pleasure is now!” Gustave called from the other side of the door. “And you said it was for at night, Father, why are you doing it now? You need to stop because Charlotte continues to cry no matter what I do! I don’t need you creating a new one.”

Husband and wife froze listening as their son stormed down the hall. Christine’s face flushed, “How long was he out there? What are we going to do with that boy?”

*******

The breakfast table would have been quiet if it wasn’t for the constant questions from Charlotte.

“When do I get to play with Matilda?” She stirred her oatmeal with her spoon.

“When she’s a bit older,” Christine poured some more chamomile tea into her cup.

“Why do I have to wait?” Charlotte continued to stir her food.

“Because she’s not big enough yet to do anything besides eat and sleep. Now eat your breakfast.”

Mr. Y took a sip of coffee before speaking, “Gustave, I have a surprise for you today we can go out right after we finish breakfast.”

“Are you sure you and Mother don’t need anymore time?” The boy’s tone sardonic as he sat his fork down.

“Gustave!” Christine exclaimed. “That is enough from you, young man! Your father has a lovely day planned for you but you have spent the morning insulting us! I have every right to keep you here instead with extra math lessons and then give Mary a half day off and let you take care of your sister!”

Erik wiped the exposed side of his lips with his napkin and stood, “It’s okay, Christine. We need not go to such drastic measures. Come, son let us get our coats and hats. We have so much to do.”

The young man regressed into a boy shrunken looking down at the floor as he followed his father out of the dining room. As they headed down the paths towards Phantasma, Gustave finally looked up at Mr. Y, “I am sorry, Papa. I truly am. And I will apologize to Mama later. I just do not understand what is the matter with me lately.”

“I already told you, son, you are going through puberty. It is bringing so many changes to your body, mind and moods. Before you speak or act right now you just need to stop and think. Don’t take these attitudes into adulthood and ruin lives and miss out ten years of great things like your father,” Mr. Y wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulders and smiled at him.

“So what are we doing today?” Gustave asked, the curiosity back in his voice.

The Phantom paused in front of a small new building, pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket. He found the correct one and put it in the keyhole, “Today, we are going to be working in the new workshop!”

The electric light in the room sparkled in Gustave’s eyes as he wandered around the room. “When was this finished? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was only finished a few days ago,” Erik closed the door. “But just in time to finish what we need for the opening of Phantasma in a few weeks.”

“What do you mean?” Gustave ran his fingers over the new sets of tools.

“All those automatons we were working on before?”

“Yes?”

“There are now in their final stages. Between you, Gangle and myself, we should have them all up and running for the new show.”

“New show?” The young man turned and looked at his father.

“Yes, a whole new automaton show!” He walked over to him. “I’ve been planning this for a while; even before the opera. You were actually helping me with it when we were working on the automatons before.”

“Really? That long?”

“Yes. Now do you want to help me finish it or not?"

Father and son sat down next to each other in front of the automaton already spread on the work table. Phantasma was going to have one smashing opening!


	19. Camera Obscura

The Opera singer sat on her dressing room settee brushing Charlotte’s hair. The little girl’s hair was now shoulder length but still thin and such a white blonde it sometimes looked silver. It was just like her father’s hair with the exception that she had a full head of it, not just patches, and it was at least soft to the touch instead of coarse. Still, it did little to hide the deformity, but Charlotte did not seem to care. However, today Christine once again cared about her oldest daughter’s appearance.

“Charlotte, do you want to wear a ribbon in your hair that matches your new dress?” Christine bent around to be eye level with her standing daughter.

“Is it the same green?” The girl’s eyes lit up.

“The exact same green! I had it made the same time as your dress,” The Diva smiled.

“Will Dada like it?”

“He will if you do. And I think it will look extra beautiful it in our picture.”

The girl squealed, jumping up and down, the new green dress she wasn’t supposed to get flaring, exposing even more ruffles of her pantaloons. “Yes, Mama!”

Christine took a chunk of her daughter’s hair and gracefully tied the bow so that it sat on the side of her head just above the deformity. Loops hung just so you could barely see it. She patted the top of Charlotte’s head, “There now go look in the mirror…and don’t touch anything!”

The girl skipped over to the full length mirror, her new leather Mary Janes squeaking, and tilted her head. “Mama, will my cheek always look like Dada’s?”

Christine took a deep breath and walked over to the mirror. She bent down so her reflection was eye level with her daughter’s. Charlotte had never asked about her face; of course she would start today. Mother’s reflection smiled at daughter’s. “Of course not. Yours is much prettier than Dada’s.” Lips then smothered the cheek in kisses as wrapped her into an embrace.

The room filled with shrieks of laughter just as the door opened.

“Here I am finalizing everything with the photographer, missing out on all the fun,” Mr. Y walked in, grinning upon seeing such the playful sight of his wife and Charlotte.

“Dada! Dada!” Charlotte broke free from her mother and ran to her father. “Look at my ribbon! It matches my dress and Mama got it just for me!” He studied the bow’s placement and looked up at his wife, their eyes meeting. Christine looked away, not wanting the discussion. Charlotte however made it moot.

“Mama said my cheek is prettier than yours!”

Erik bent down and picked Charlotte up, “I happen to agree.” Deformed lips met deformed cheek. “What about this ribbon?”

Blue doe eyes widened, “You don’t like, Dada? Mama said if I like, you like. It’s the color of my dress. You said I could get green dress.”

“Yes, I did not know it included a ribbon. Did Mary get a ribbon as well?”

“No, silly Dada. The bow is too big for Mary,” Charlotte giggled.

“Well then is your bow ready for our family photograph? What about you, Angel?”

Christine lifted Matilda out of the stroller, “Yes, as long as Matilda does not vomit on her new white dress before the photographs are finished.”

Erik held the dressing room door open for his wife and infant before they headed down the halls to the stage. Christine looked up at her husband and smirked. Both of their hands were full of children so she leaned into him and pushed him with her bustle and giggled.

The Phantom missed a step and tripped over his own foot. Charlotte found it amusing and squealed. “What was that for?”

Christine did it again, “My hands are full and I needed to do something to express my joy that you agreed to have a family portrait done. The Opera Ghost on film. Erik the man, even in the mask, willing to have his face captured.”

“We should have done one when we got married…”

The Diva interrupted her husband, “We are doing one when it is right, when you are ready.”

They reached the stage where a couple of chairs and a stool stood in front of a plush red curtain. Gustave laid on the stage looking up at the chandelier.

“Watch out, son there might be a Phantom waiting to drop that,” Erik taunted.

“That’s just an old story Mr. de Chagny used to tell,” Gustave stood up and smoothed out his suit. “Right, Mama?”

Christine looked up at her husband then at her son, trying, but failing, to suppress a smile, “Correct.”

“So Where am I sitting, Monsieur?” She walked over to the chairs and turned her attention to the camera man.

“The chair stage left, Mrs. Y. And the Mr. Y is in the chair next you. The baby on your lap, we have the stool for the child and the young man standing behind the chairs between you.”

“Do you think you can sit still and pretty?” Erik looked at the daughter he held.

“Yes, Dada, put me down!” As soon as Charlotte was on the stage floor she ran over to the stool and sat down, feet planted on the floor. She smoothed out her green dress and then folded her hands in her lap. “Like this, Dada?”

The Phantom laughed, “Yes, darling just like that.”

As Christine settled herself and then Matilda and her dress, she studied her husband as he positioned himself in the chair. He angled his body just enough so his mask was hidden from the camera eye.

“Do you want me to turn towards you, Angel?” Christine asked.

“Yes, turn to your husband, please,” The cameraman spoke instead.

Christine repositioned herself but kept Matilda front facing. Her little hand grabbed onto Christine’s thumb.

The cameraman placed his eye in the viewfinder and stood there for a view second. He then spoke, “Little girl, could you sit on the stool the way your mother is sitting in the chair? And young man, turn your body to match your father’s.”

Christine sighed feeling Matilda’s feet kicking.

“What do I do, Dada?”

“Turn slightly towards me, darling,” Erik looked down at his daughter sitting between her parents.

The girl turned and smiled, “The camera will see more of my bow now!”

“That’s right, aren’t you glad you wore it now?” Christine asked re-adjusting the squirming infant.

“It’s such a pretty bow,” Erik smiled at his wife. “Such a brave girl for showing that side off.”

Christine returned her husband’s smile, sharing a knowing glance.

“Such a genius idea to have the photo taken in here and use the stage lights, Mr. Y,” The camera man observed. “Alright is everyone ready? Please sit still.”

The camera captured it all: Charlotte's bow, the small malformation on her cheek, Gustave's current bout of melancholy, Matilda's hand around her mother's thumb and the Opera Ghost and Soprano's smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for this chapter came out of no where. This was no where in my original idea and plans for this phic. It doesn't really serve much purpose but I fell in love with it so it stays.


	20. Lessons

Mr. Y sat in the fourth row of the theatre; looking at several automatons on the stage. They were in fancy ball gowns and tuxedos; Gustave’s appearance in tan linen slacks and cream linen shirt with his waistcoat missing made him look more like the curiosity on display. It was only the sweat dampness around his neck and underarms that signaled he was the human being on the stage.

“Alright let’s run it again!” Erik called from his seat. “It’s a simple waltz, Gustave. If I would have known how long it would have taken you to learn it, I would have started you sooner, with an actual human.”

The young man rolled his eyes before getting into place, as the pianist counted off. Gustave touched the back of one of the female automatons. She brought her head and hands up, joining Gustave in a few measures of a waltz before walking over to a male automaton and waking him up and joining him in a waltz. Gustave repeated the action three more times until there were a total of four sets of automatons dancing on the stage. Alone he stood there for a couple of measures until a single female automaton walked out and touched his hand. Smiling, Gustave led her in a waltz.

“End front and center! Front and center!” Erik yelled from the empty house.

Gustave bit his lip, counting in his head as he looked over his partner’s shoulder making sure they were ready to land where they needed to be. The music stopped; as did all the automatons. 

“Bravo!”

Gustave smiled as his father’s voice boomed through the room.

“We did it!” The boy hugged his dance partner and then kissed her on the cheek.

“You did it Gustave, she’s not real,” Mr. Y walked up the aisle towards the stage.

“Neither was the one you made to look like mother, so apologize to Miss Sally Mayweather!”

Erik climbed up the ladder leaning up against the stage to get up on it, “If I wasn’t running late for your mother’s lesson I would make you run this again.” He patted his son’s head and smiled at him, “You did wonderful; not just the dancing but your work with me on the automatons and your upkeep of them through rehearsal. Keep it up all season, Young Mister.”

As he made his way down the backstage corridors, Erik paused in front of his wife’s dressing room when he heard another voice singing from behind it. Another glorious voice.

His wife’s speaking voice cut it off, “Alright work on that just a bit more this week. You are so close, Violet.”

“Perhaps you could sing it for me one last time, Christine?”

_Violet Stein? One of the Oo-La-La Girls?_ He knocked on the door.

“Oh dear, we ran too late, I am so sorry, Christine.”

The door opened and The Diva smiled at her husband.

“Am I interrupting something?” He walked in leaving the door open.

“Not at all, why?” Christine gave him a light kiss on the lips before walking back over to the upright piano that was now in her dressing room. “I was just finishing up Violet’s lesson.” She took that music off the stand and handed it to the light brown hair girl and smiled, “I will see you next week.”

“Thank you. Good-bye, Mr. Y,” she curtsied slightly at the man before leaving and closing the door behind herself.

“What was that? I didn’t know you wanted to teach,” Erik sat down on the piano bench.

“I don’t, but I need an understudy and I am not subjecting the her to you,” The Diva lifted new music off the lid of the piano and placed it on the stand for her husband.

“You don’t need an understudy, Christine,” The Phantom retorted as he cracked his knuckles.

“The same was said of Carlotta all those years ago.”

“Even if you did need an understudy, did you really just go grab and Oo-La-La Girl?”

“Well you just grabbed a choir girl. Violet has a lovely voice. She could do so much more with some training. She is only working this because it is easy money and she’s supporting her younger sister.”

The Phantom ran some scales on the keys, “She’s too young. She will not have the maturity, voice or otherwise, to handle your part.”

“Erik, she’s twenty-two; the same age I was when you came to me as The Angel of Music. If I could handle your demanding lessons and needs then, she can handle playing Persephone in your new opera.” Christine walked over to the door and locked it, before returning to her husband’s side. She stood tall beside the bench. “I have also hired her sister as my personal dresser here at the theatre. This way Anne can stay at the house and take on more maid duties. She will also assist the Oo-La-La Girls when I do not need her.”

Erik opened his mouth but The Soprano cut him off, “She is only fourteen! She’s the same age as Gustave! I would her rather be here with her sister helping around the theatre than trying to find work elsewhere in the city; possibly getting trapped in a factory for hours on in. I am already warmed up, so shall we just begin?”

“No.” Erik started playing the melody from the aria, “I want to know when you were going to tell me about your understudy? Were you just going to keep training her and then one day lay up in bed ill during a performance and say ‘Do no worry, Violet Stein will have it all covered.’” He pushed down on the keys with more force, the sound louder and harder.

“Erik!”

“Or were you hoping I would stumble upon one of your lessons so you would not have to approach me with the subject?”

“Erik, if you are going to do this, I will cancel today’s lesson!”

“I just want to know when you were going to tell me? You pulled me into the light, Christine. I no longer like being left in the dark,” The Phantom growled. His fingers sped up the tempo.

“And now that I am The Diva you created; I am allowed demands. And since that Diva is also the owner’s wife, she will fill them all. What is he going to do? Dismiss the voice he spent ten years chasing?”

The Phantom slammed all his fingers down on the piano keys at once, creating a loud vibrating thud through the room. He closed his eyes and his shoulders rose and fell with several deep breaths, “Charlotte may look like me but she acts just like you! What a cruel God to give that sweet child the worst features of her parents!”

The Diva’s eyes widen as her jaw dropped. She fidgeted with the lace of her sleeve before speaking, “I’ve only become what The Angel of Music taught me. Maybe Mr. Y should try teaching Violet and see what becomes of her.” Christine stormed out of her dressing room.

*******

Inside the nursery, Charlotte stood above the low table pouring “tea” from the pot of her toy tea set into her mother’s tea cup.

“That is enough, thank you,” Christine smiled up at her daughter from the floor.

“Are you sure? Mary likes a lot of tea,” Charlotte motioned her head towards the doll in the little wooden chair right across from Christine.

“That is alright.”

Charlotte walked over to the doll’s place setting and poured into the cup. Once done, she poured into her cup, placed the pot down and sat in her spot. “Now we can drink.”

Christine lifted her cup to lips and tilted it. “That is the most delightful tea I have ever had. You are the best tea party hostess, Charlotte.”

“You hear that, Mary. You tell Nellie that. That’s why she’s not here.”

Matilda cooed from Charlotte’s crib and Charlotte turned to her, “You’re too little, sister no tea for you!”

“Someday she will be big enough for one of your tea parties and you will invite Matilda, right?” Christine lifted one of the blocks acting as a tea biscuit off her plate.

“Am I too late for the party?” Mr. Y stood in the doorway.

“Yes, you are,” Christine sat the block down on her plate.

“I thought Charlotte was the hostess.”

“Mary drank all the tea, Dada,” she looked up at her father. “And it’s bedtime soon.”

“Where’s Gustave?”

“He said he was tired from rehearsal and retired early.”

“Tired, sure,” Erik scoffed.

“You know you run impossible lessons and rehearsals!” Christine stood up. “He’s still a child.”

“My rehearsal demands have nothing to do with why he’s retired early. However, if he wants to perform for me…”

“I’m not having this conversation right now, Erik!” The Soprano turned her attention to the toddler. “Charlotte, get your night gown. We’ll go to the water closet to clean up before bed.”

The little girl trotted over the chair beside her crib and grabbed the little white garment. On her way to follow her mother, who had already left the room, she stopped in the doorway and wrapped her arms around her father, “Have you been bad, Dada?”

He reached his hand down and caressed her cheek, “My whole life. But tonight, I’m in trouble with Mama.”


	21. Ulterior Motives

When Christine entered their master bedroom, she found her husband, wig and mask removed, in his night shirt, bend over the bassinette humming softly. It was a melody all too familiar.

“You alone can make my song take flight,” Christine sung the words softly as she walked over to his side. “Help me make the music of the night.” She smiled down at the sleeping baby, holding onto the bassinette’s side.

Erik continued to stroke the baby’s head looking at her as well, “I bathed and changed her so if she wakes later it’s hunger.”

“Thank you, Angel. Our children are so fortunate to have a father who will actually do those tasks.”

“Even if I run ridged rehearsal schedules for them?”

Christine sighed and walked away from the bassinette. She sat down at her vanity and unbuttoned her top.

“You know this isn’t about that, Christine,” He walked up behind her and pulled the pins from her hair. He placed each one in their tray.

“I know,” The Diva removed her top, causing Erik to pause in his task.

“All you had to do was ask or tell me sooner you wanted an understudy,” He removed the last couple pins and Christine’s hair completed its fall into a cascade of brown curls. “Then this fight would have been over a month ago.”

“Would it have been though?” Christine turned in her chair, lifting her skirts into her lap to expose her stockings and ankle boots. She bent and undid the top button of one of the boots before looking up; catching her husband looking directly at her breasts as they were pushed up and over her corset and chemise. She smirked at him, “I’ve been leaking all day. Having the wet nurse while I am working leaves me full.”

“You minx,” Erik got down on one knee in front of her and took her foot into his hands. His nimble fingers made quick word of removing that boot. “You know damn well you are too angry to let me drink,” He untied the satin garter ribbon and rolled the stocking off her leg.

He removed the other shoe and then massaged the ball of her foot through the stocking. Christine leaned back in her chair, stretched her arms over her head and sighed.

“You should wear more comfortable shoes during the day.”

“These are my comfortable shoes.”

“Lies,” Erik sat that foot down and lifted the bare one up. He massaged it, “You are no longer a dancer, you need not be so cruel to your feet.”

“I would enjoy this more if I knew you did not have ulterior motives.”

The Phantom’s hands gently moved their way up her calve massaging it, “Do I always have to have an ulterior motive?”

“Do you have to ask, Erik?” She removed her earrings and sat them on the vanity. “And we both know you’re still angry at me.”

He lifted her leg higher, her skirts falling all the way back to her waist. He rested his face against her bare flesh; his distended lips kissing up her thigh until they reached the lace edge of her panalettes.

Christine let out a breath she did not know she was holding. “Who is teasing now?” She whispered breathless.

“Ah Angel,” The Phantom removed his lips from her inner thigh, moving them to the wiry hair exposed by the panalettes’ gusset. They tickled his nose slightly as he kissed them gently.

His wife shifted down in her chair instantly, spreading her thighs wider, resting her leg that was in the air on top of her husband’s shoulder. His tongue’s tip traced her now exposed wet pink lips before moving up and gently taking that little ball above her womanhood between his distorted lips. He sucked and rolled it.

The Diva’s moan filled the room just as her fingers pushed through his grey tufts. She held his scalp tight as she pushed his face firm into her sex. He licked, lapped and when Christine finished her “Little Death,” he looked up at her smiling, his lips and chin glistening with her juices.

She removed her hands from his head, followed quickly by her leg on his shoulder, “I guess I can no longer be angry with you.” The Diva was still trying to catch her breath.

“That was the point, Angel,” Erik stood. “I never want us going to bed angry anymore.”

“You assume you can just pleasure me out of irritation?”

“No, but it can only aide us,” he caressed her cheek. “Besides I think what we were angry about is over. You have an understudy, I now know, you now realize you can just tell me things and someday I will realize I cannot control everything. Might take until my dying day, but I will get there, Christine.”

Her eyes large, she brushed her fingers down his nightshirt, stopping to where his arousal was apparent. 

“You do not have to worry about me.”

“I am not,” She stood and kissed him. “However, if my dear husband happens to be waiting on the bed after I have finished undressing and have inserted my womb veil, he might just receive some pleasure while I get some more.”

The Angel of Music reach his arms around and found the laces on Christine’s corset. He loosened them, “Let me at least assist in undressing you.” Once the garment felt loose enough, he moved his nimble fingers to the front and unhooked the top grommet.

The Diva smiled, “No argument here.”


	22. Opening Day

“Welcome one and welcome all to the seasonal grand opening of Phantasma!” Erik stood on the makeshift stage at the side of the Grand Entry Gates. His usual dramatic gestures were limited as he held Charlotte, in her green dress special for opening day, in his arms.

“Tell them about the carousel, Dada!”

“Charlotte,” he whispered.

“The carousel!” The girl exclaimed. “The zebra is my favorite!”

Chuckles came from the audience as flash paper went off.

Mr. Y grimaced, “Yes, yes as you all heard my daughter say, we still have the carousel from last year. And while it is new to her, I am really here to announce our new theatre season! New songs and dance numbers by Phantasma’s ever popular Ooo La La Girls! Come amaze and not believe your eyes at the new The Belle of Ballroom Automatons! And now what everyone has been anxious for and what I have personally have longed to bring to Phantasma’s theatre: our first full opera! And not just any opera a completely new, original production!”

Gustave pulled down the curtain revealing a poster: _Underworld Starring Christine Daae as Persephone._

There was clapping and more sounds of flash paper from the audience.

“Of course, this would not be possible without visitors, regular patrons and new donors who are in the crowd; but Phantasma, my family and I want to give a special thank you to Mr. Branwell Jones and his wife Daisy who is a good friend to mine. The torrid details of Madame Daae’s relationships are well known but what wasn’t is she did not have a single friend once she was in this country. Mrs. Jones befriended my wife despite it all and…” Mr. Y trailed off.

“Dada?” Charlotte patted his chin.

“And she and her husband also believed in her art and my art. They are Phantasma’s Theatre’s largest donors and the producers of ‘Underworld.’ Please step up!” Erik gestured to the couple who stood behind him next to Christine.

“Do it please, he is never like this,” Christine whispered in Daisy’s ear.

Daisy grabbed her husband’s hand and then walked up to Mr. Y. The couple waved to the crowd before backing away.

“And now without further ado; welcome to Phantasma!”

Sparks flew from behind the gates followed by a puff a smoke as the gate rose up. While patrons moved to go beyond the gates; the reporters lingered at the stage.

_“Mr. Y, is it true you wrote the opera?”_

_“Mr. Y why the sudden public appearances with your children? That’s not the markings of a business man.”_

_“Mr. Jones, do you really believe a carnival theatre can put on quality opera? Aren’t you worried you’re wasting your money?”_

_“Madame Daae, did you not just have another child three months ago? Are you ready to return to the stage?_

“If you’ll excuse us, I promised my daughter she would be the first to ride the carousel.”

*******

As the carousel came to a stop, Charlotte wrapped her arms around the zebra’s neck. “Again, Dada! Again!” Mr. Y stood beside the zebra and sighed, “Charlotte, it’s been three times.”

“Again!”

“How about we sit together in the swan?”

“No! I ride the zebra!”

Christine, from the bench, saw the frustration and surrender on her husband’s face and laughed.

Daisy sitting beside her, finished chewing on her piece of salt water taffy before turning to her friend, “Just what is so amusing?”

“My husband. I see how Charlotte has convinced him to ride the carousel for a fourth time. I tell him constantly he spoils her; that he’s going to turn her into an impossible young woman.”

“Well maybe she’ll follow your career path and then she will have the perfect platform to be a diva.”

Christine adjusted her hat, for the sun was bright, “I know you are being kind, Daisy but she’s never performing with her deformities.”

“You own your own stage, put her on it. And look how far, Erik has come: when he opened this park nobody knew who did, then it was a mysterious Mr. Y and now he’s out here opening day greeting everyone with his daughter in his arms.”

Christine smiled as she caught a glimpse of the green dress on the zebra and the black suit beside it as they went around, “If you only knew just how far.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Daisy’s daughter Sara, running up. Gustave walking up with Daisy’s oldest daughter Rose behind them. All of them had ice cream cones but Rose also carried a small bouquet of flowers.

“Mama, Rose kissed Gustave! Rose kissed Gustave!”

“No, I didn’t!” The older sister’s cheeks told a different story.

“I got you free ice cream, Sara!” Gustave exclaimed.

The mothers gave each other a knowing look.

*******

That evening as Charlotte lay asleep in Christine’s dressing room, she accompanied her husband as he gave The Jones an exclusive tour of backstage of the theatre.

“This right here is my favorite set piece for the opera; the flowers and trees melting into fire of the underworld,” Mr. Y gestured to the arch securely tucked into place.

“When do we get to sit in on a rehearsal?” Branwell Jones asked. “When I heard you were with child again, Mrs. Y I must admit I was a little concerned. You calling on my wife after delivery was some relief but I truly cannot wait to hear that angelic voice again.”

Christine smiled at the man, “You, sir have an open invitation from here on out.”

Erik turned at looked at his wife. The Diva met his eyes and nodded.

“Rose Marie Jones!” Daisy’s voice echoed from the wings.

All eyes turned to behind the curtain wings where there was not only an automaton but Rose and Gustave in an embrace, their lips pressed firmly against each other.

“Gustave!” Christine exclaimed.

The two young teenagers pulled away from each other and gasped.

The Soprano stormed up to her son and pulled him away by the arm.

“I was showing her my automatons,” Gustave said breathless.

“I told you they kissed!” Sara exclaimed.

“Go get your sister and go home right now!” Christine snapped pushing her son down the corridor towards the dressing rooms.

Once the boy was out of sight, Mr. Y finally spoke up. “May I apologize for our son’s behavior. He has never acted like this before and I refuse to have him bring shame upon you or your daughter.”

“He’s not!” Rose exclaimed. “Gustave is a sweet boy! I wanted to kiss him! Please don’t be mad.” The girl ran to her mother and embraced her.

“I believe we shall head home,” Branwell Jones firmly stated. “Thank you for such a lovely day, Erik and Christine. We are not going to let this ruin it.”

*******

Christine stood outside her son’s door, listening intently to the conversation between father and son. She didn’t exactly trust Erik to handle this.

“She is the daughter of our biggest donor! Do you want to see the theatre lose funding? All because of the whim of your heart?”

“She kissed me, Papa!” Gustave crossed his arms. “But I will kiss her again the moment I see her! Why can I not be sweet on a girl?”

Christine tightened her dressing robe and pushed the door open, “You can be sweet on a girl, Gustave but there is a proper way. You have to understand your father and I did not do anything properly. We do not want you to suffer like we did.”

“But you hated stuffy society, mother!” Gustave walked the opposite direction of his parents. “I see how much more vibrate you are here than you were in Paris married to Mr. de Chagny.”

“There is a difference between stuffy society and doing what is right as to not suffer,” Christine followed him and placed them on his shoulders. “If you truly are sweet on Rose, you will do this right.”

Gustave let out a deep breath and then turned around, “What do I need to do, Mama?”

Christine smiled as she pushed his hair out of his eyes, “That’s my sweet boy. So tomorrow, you and I are going to go to the Jones and apologize. We will then offer to have a chaperon available to be with you and Rose when she visits Phantasma. Now go to sleep.” She kissed his forehead. “Come on, Erik.” She extended her hand to her husband.

Once they were in their master bedroom, The Opera Ghost turned to his wife, “What was that?”

“Taking care of our son,” Christine pulled the covers back on the bed before looking into bassinette for one last check on Matilda. “I love you, Angel but I knew this was beyond your knowledge.”

“What are you saying, Christine? That I do not know how to properly court a lady? That I could not give my son advice?”

“What were you going to tell him? You cannot be upfront with your emotions. You must first hide behind a façade because you cannot trust people. That the artists don’t mingle with the patrons,” She removed her dressing robe and got into bed.

“I do not appreciate it when you mock our past,” Erik sat his wig and mask down on his night stand before changing into his nightshirt.

“And why not? It only aides in reminding me in how far you have come, how far we have come. Speaking of which, you were remarkable today, Angel.”

“I do not consider riding the carousel seven times with our daughter then watching her eat and vomit up cotton candy remarkable, but if you insist,” He crawled under the covers.

Christine laughed, “No, I meant with the opening day speech and the backstage tour you gave the Jones. I never thought I could have such a life, especially with my Angel of Music.” She leaned over and kissed him, “Good night.”

Erik turned off the lamp on his nightstand before pulling Christine into his arms, “Good night, Angel.”


	23. Sweet On You

“Oh Gustave, your automatons were absolutely magical!” Rose walked in step with the boy through Phantasma. Anne, Christine’s faithful dresser and maid, was now their appointed chaperon and kept a watchful two steps behind them.

“My father and I spent a couple years working on them all together. However, it is now my job to keep them maintained for my show. They truly are beautiful.”

“As was your dancing, though a little stiff since it wasn’t with a human. I can only imagine what you would be like with a real girl on a real ballroom floor,” Rose inched closer to him, her hand brushing his.

Anne cleared her throat and Gustave stepped away, while tucking his hands in his pants pockets.

“So, do you want to ride the roller coaster, Rose?”

The girl turned her green eyes towards it, “I’ve never rode one before. Is it scary?”

“It is so much fun! My father helped design it! And if it does get too scary, I will be right beside you. And Anne will be waiting for us.” He glanced back at their chaperon and she nodded approvingly.

Anne sat down on a bench as the two young teens got in line. Free of their chaperon, Gustave gently took Rose’s hand into his.

She smiled at him and blushed, “You know we can get in trouble.”

“I don’t know why. Our parents are treating us like Romeo and Juliet even though they aren’t feuding.”

“It especially doesn’t make sense from your parents,” Rose inched closer to him. “We all know your parents were not married when…”

“That is why my parents are making sure I am behaving like a proper young man,” Gustave interrupted. “Mother says we are now established; America has given us a new chance.”

“Nouveau Riche is how father describes your parents, even if he does enjoy their company.”

“You pronounced that wrong,” Gustave chided. “If you’re going to insult my family in my native language at least pronounce it correctly.”

“Young Mister!” The operator exclaimed upon seeing Gustave at the front of the line. “And who is this pretty young lady?”

“Rose Jones,” Rose curtsied small for the man.

“Does Mr. Y know you’re out here running around with a pretty girl?”

“He does. Our chaperone is waiting on the bench.”

The man smiled, “Must be serious, eh?”

The Young Mister’s cheeks turned red. He grabbed his sweetheart’s hand, “We want to sit in the back.” And with a tug, he pulled Rose into a cart in the back.

She didn’t let go of his hand as they sat and waited, “Are we serious, Gustave?” She leaned in close, her blonde hair tickling the side of his face.

The poor boy felt his slacks start to constrict in the groin, “I…I would like to be but do we not have to ask our parents?”

Rose giggled and leaned over and kissed him, “I’m sweet on you, Gustave. That’s all that matters.”

A few seconds after that, the ride started. They held hands the whole ride. Rose screamed out of fear and excitement. However, the rough tracks and bumps of the wooden track were too much for the already aroused young man and he could not control the physical release he found halfway through the ride. As the carts came back into the station, he looked down at his lap. _I am so glad I wore cotton instead of linen slacks! The mess is only in my drawers. But how embarrassing! Would Rose still be sweet on me if she knew?_

“Gustave, are you okay?” Rose looked at him concerned.

He looked up at her and leaned in and kissed her, “Just fine.”

She giggled again, “I was hoping for another kiss before we returned to Anne.”

As they exited the ride and headed towards the bench, a small group of fellow teenagers approached them.

“Look who it is?”

“Jonathan!” Rose exclaimed. “I didn’t know you came to Phantasma.”

“So you stopped meeting with me to see the son of the carnival freak?” The boy must have been a year or two older than Gustave and was a few inches taller than him as well.

“My father is not a freak!” Gustave exclaimed. “He is a very talented man! And need I remind you he owns this whole park!”

“He’s deformed under that mask! Of course he’s a freak!” Another boy said.

“And your mother is an opera tart,” Jonathan laughed as he said that. “And what do you do? Dance and make things? You do not belong with such classless characters, Rose!”

“Jonathan, stop!” Rose exclaimed. “Gustave and his family are wonderful and talented. They have more beauty and class underneath than your whole family!”

“And if my family was so bad you wouldn’t be at our park!” Gustave offered his arm, “Come, Rose let us get some ice cream.”

They walked arm in arm back over to Anne who looked at the couple then back over at the group of boys.

“Shall I send for security, Gustave?”

“No need, Anne. However, we are going to get ice cream.”

“So be it,” The Chaperone followed the couple to their favorite ice cream stand.


	24. Difficult Children

Gustave used his key to open the stage door to Phantasma’s theatre. Ever the young gentleman, he held it open for both Rose and Anne. Even back here his mother’s voice could be heard as they headed towards the wings. By the time they were watching from the wings, George, who was playing opposite his mother, was singing his verse. When they reached the wings and were fully engaged in watching the rehearsal, they were singing together, at the peak of this duet.

“It sounds different when she sings it with my father,” Gustave leaned in and whispered in Rose’s ear.

“It’s beautiful,” Rose whispered. “So sad, yet romantic.”

As their voices and music ended, some applause erupted from the house along with the wings. Christine looked over to see the three in the wings and smiled. She waved them over and opened her arms, the fabric of her Grecian Chiton flowing around her. The Soprano embraced her son, “Just like your father, sneaking around back stage. Yet worse you have accomplices.” She kissed his forehead.

He broke away flustered, “Mother, please!”

Christine smiled, “I forgot. You are a young man now and this young lady here is the only one allowed to kiss you. Your lips are swollen, so do not try and tell me you haven’t stolen kisses. It seems Anne is better at lacing my corsets than watching you.”

Anne went to speak but Rose cut her off, eyes full of fear, “Mrs. Y, you’re not going to tell my mother, are you? Or banish Gustave from seeing me? That wouldn’t be fair considering…” She gasped cutting herself off.

“Considering what?” Christine, arched an eyebrow as she looked at the girl. The Diva knew exactly what she was going to mention. She adjusted the floral wreath on her head, “Repeating gossip, Rose is not very becoming of a young lady.”

“You are correct, Mrs. Y,” Rose tilted her head down.

Christine tilted the girl’s chin up and smiled at her, “But you are correct in your thinking. Our secret.”

“I thought we were in rehearsal!” Erik’s voice called from the house. “Gustave if you want to watch you sit down here with us!”

As the group headed towards the stage ladder, Christine grabbed Anne’s arm, “Sit between them. Rose’s parents are watching rehearsal.”

“Alright, back in places from the top! You were a little flat, George. Fix that please.”

***

Matilda sucked on the nipple of a bottle as Erik held her in his arms on the Parlor couch.

“Hold her head up higher,” Christine leaned over and adjusted the infant in her husband’s arms.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Erik’s eyes were focused intently on the baby’s mouth and bottle.

“I am fatigued, Erik. Switching her to bottle at night will make things easier. You will be able to feed her as well so I can get more sleep.”

“But is it going to work?” he asked again. “She is such a healthy baby; will this weaken her? Mother’s milk is always best if it is there. Shall we keep the wet nurse on full time?”

“That is my milk in the bottle, Erik,” Christine sighed as she leaned back on the couch.

“Let me feed Matilda,” Charlotte who had been sitting on the Persian Run, pushed her way between her parents on the couch, kneeling between them. She pulled the bottle from her father’s hand.

“Charlotte!” Both exclaimed as the baby began to fuss.

The little girl quickly had the nipple back in Matilda’s mouth, even holding it at a better angle. “You have nothing to cry about, Matilda. You weren’t called ugly today.”

Phantom and Soprano exchanged furrowed brows before looking down at their daughters.

“Charlotte, what happened today?” Christine twirled her fingers through her daughter’s light hair.

“Dada was talking to his friend and women on the carousel said I was ugly. That it was nice they let the freak children out and play.” Charlotte’s cheeks puffed up and turned red, “I am not a freak! I am cute like Matilda!” She pushed the bottle harder, the nipple going further into the baby’s mouth.

The infant squirmed as milk poured out her nose and mouth.

“Charlotte stop, you’re hurting her!” Erik tugged the bottle from her little hand and tossed it to the floor. Milk and vomit were spit up all over his waistcoat and shirt as he brought Matilda to his shoulder and patted her back. Matilda’s wail now echoed through the whole room as Erik walked around his hand going back and forth between patting and rubbing the infant’s back.

Charlotte had rolled back into her mother’s lap and was looking right up at her. There were tears in Christine’s eyes as she scooped her daughter into her arms. “Oh Charlotte, look with your heart. You know you are beautiful. We know you are beautiful. You are not a freak.”

The girl wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, crying as she rested the deformed side of her face against her shoulder, “Can have a mask like Dada?”

“NO!” The Phantom’s voice now boomed through the room. He sat back down on the couch, putting a pacifier into Matilda’s mouth. His eyes met Charlotte’s, “You will never wear a mask, darling!”

Charlotte’s face got redder and wetter, “Then why you wear one?” She let go of her mother and turned to her father, her body shaking with every breath. “Then you get called ugly with me!” Both her little hands pulled at his mask but when she could not completely free it from his head, growls escaped the back of her throat.

Erik closed his eyes and finished removing it and then handed it to her. Tears streamed down his cheeks, “I am so sorry, Charlotte.”

Mask in her hands, Charlotte slipped off the couch and ran out of the room.


	25. Love and Kindness

Dressing robe wrapped around his bare chest, but pajama bottoms on; The Phantom stepped softly into Charlotte’s room. The little girl was curled into a tight ball on a new bed, which had recently replaced the crib. She was asleep, still fully dressed; her face still red and wet from crying. His mask wrapped around arms held against her chest.

“Oh, my little darling,” Erik whispered sitting down on the edge of the bed. He unbuckled her Mary Janes and placed them on the floor. When he started to pull down her socks, she stirred.

“Dada?”

“Yes, darling. You fell asleep, let’s get you dressed for bed. And then I will tell you a story.”

“A story?” Charlotte sat up, still not letting go of the mask. “What kind of story?”

“One about how there was once a little boy who looked just like you.”

“There was?” She sat the mask down as she crawled off the bed.

“Yes, there was,” Erik spoke softly as he unbuttoned her dress. “His father died before he was born. When he was born, his mother thought he was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. She and the doctor swore she had given birth to a Devil child.”

“Just because he was deformed?” Charlotte’s blue doe eyes widened wet with new water as she held her nightgown.

Erik caressed her malformed cheek, “Sadly yes. His mother was so ashamed, she made a mask for him before he even had proper clothing. She never let him drink from her breast, not even her milk in a bottle.”

He removed her chemise and then pulled her nightgown over Charlotte’s head. He raised his hands to her hair.

“No, Dada, brush it,” she shuffled over to her dresser and removed her hair brush. She put the instrument in his hand, silver handle first before turning around, so her back was to him. 

The Phantom chuckled to himself before he ran the bristles through the thin, fine hair.

“What happened to the boy, Dada?”

“His own mother kept him locked away when visitors called. If she ever caught him not wearing his mask, she beat him. All he ever wanted was to be loved by his own family, but that was not to be. When he was the same age as Gustave he ran away and joined the circus.”

“The circus!” The girl squealed. She spun around and jumped up and down. “Dada, could he come here? Please!”

Tears were in Erik’s eyes as he smiled, “That boy is already here, darling. I was that boy.”

Those large eyes squinted as she tilted her head and looked at her father. She got closer to him, raised her hands to his face; fingers reading the bumps and crevices of his cheek and mouth like braille.

“Why you wear mask now then, Dada if you didn’t want to then?”

He gently took the little hands into his and kissed them, “Your Mama and Dada love you just as you are. I never wanted you to feel like I did. I never wanted to make you wear a mask because I didn’t want you to believe there was something wrong with you.”

“But there is, Dada! Mama don’t look like us. Gustave and Matilda don’t! Where are others? You still didn’t tell me why you wear a mask.”

“Oh, you are already clever!” Erik pulled Charlotte into his arms before rolling onto the bed.

She shrieked and giggled as he covered her cheek in kisses. He paused, feeling his mask underneath. He pulled it out and held it up over them so its eye opening looked down.

“I wear the mask, Charlotte because my mother made me feel so ugly, dirty and guilty for my face. And then the circus confirmed this. You know how people pay to hear Mama sing? People paid money just to see my face and call me names because of it. I thought if you never wore a mask you would never feel ugly, dirty or guilty. I wanted to fill you with love and protect you from the mean world.”

Charlotte stretched her hands up towards the mask. Erik lowered it and placed it on top of Charlotte’s face. The item covered almost all her head and she laughed.

“If you want to wear a mask, we will not stop you but we will never make you wear one. You are more than my marks on your cheeks. You have your mother’s beautiful eyes and her smile. You are also the light of my life.”

Charlotte lifted the mask off her head and smiled, “What about you, Dada? Why don’t you stop wearing mask all the time? You have pretty eyes.”

The Phantom chuckled, “Maybe someday I will be that brave. But tell you what. No more mask in the house. The moment I come home I will take it off.”

The little girl smiled and nodded.

“Alright. It’s time for you to get back to sleep,” Erik stood up and adjusted the bed so Charlotte was snug under her quilt. He lifted Mary from the foot of the bed and tucked the doll in next to his daughter. “May I have my mask?”

“Why, Dada? You’re home,” Charlotte giggled and wrapped her arms around it.

Erik smiled. “That I am. Good night, darling. I love you.” he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and then on each cheek.

“I love you, Dada.”

The Phantom turned off the electric lights in the room and closed the door gently. Christine, also in her dressing robe, took a step back as her husband entered the hallway. Those same blue doe eyes met his and they were full of tears.

“Christine?” He whispered.

“Angel!” She tossed herself into his arms; her mouth quickly finding his bloated one. She held his face, her fingertips lightly tracing every ridge, bump and hole. She knew which ones had no feeling, which ones were overly sensitive.

He sighed into her mouth as he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist. Christine continued to trespass; opening her mouth, nipping at his bottom lip and manipulating her tongue past his lips.

When he pulled away, he opened his eyes, took a deep breath and smiled, “Not that I mind, but what was that for?”

“I now understand why you spoil Charlotte so. She is your ultimate redemption. If you can just love, protect and give her everything you were denied as a child; just maybe the outcome will be different.” Christine ran her hands down Erik’s throat resting them on the exposed area of his chest. “I understand now why you didn’t want me covering her face. I was trying to protect her because I knew society was going to be cruel. You didn’t want her to know she was different for as long as possible.”

The Soprano pushed his robe open a bit more and placed light kisses on his chest, “Oh my Angel, all the cruelty you survived; the love you were denied and yet the kindness and love you give.” Her lips slid up his neck sucking gently as she tugged the bow of his dressing robe tie free. “Oh Erik…Erik…my Erik.”

The Phantom’s fingers were lost in his wife’s hair. His lips met her cheek before nibbling on her ear, “I am trying, my Angel.”

Christine sighed and closed her eyes, “You are more than trying. You are a wonderful father and husband.” She rested her head on his shoulder, lightly scratching his back with her nails. “I must admit to being a little jealous to hear I am no longer the light of your life. Next you will have her singing and have no need for me.”

Erik chuckled, “You never were the light of my life.” He lifted his wife into a bridal carry and spun her around before prancing down the hall.

Christine cried out before laughing, “What are you doing?”

Once in their bedroom, Erik gently placed his wife on their bed before crawling on top of her, “You, Christine have always been my Angel of Music.” He untied her dressing robe and nuzzled his nose into neck. One hand slid under her nightgown while the other wrapped around her curly locks.

The Diva gasped and moaned as The Opera Ghost manipulated her womanhood as if it were another instrument he played perfectly.

“And I will always need My Angel of Music to sing like this for me; for only me!”

Dressing robes and other garments were quickly banished to the foot of the bed in between lips finding sensitive flesh to worship. The Phantom found himself pinned under The Diva. However, the glorious view of her above him was jarred away when he felt her wet warmth welcoming the tip of his manhood.

“Your womb veil,” Erik groaned, grabbing her waist and pulling her up and away.

“Oh yes, of course,” Christine panted as she crawled off of him and to her nightstand.

He ran his fingers up and down her back, as Christine sat on the edge of the bed, taking the item out of its tin. She gasped as she felt the womb veil suction into place before biting her lip and smiling to herself. She returned to her position on top of her husband and leaned over him, covering his face in kisses as her hair covered it like a curtain.

“Christine…Christine…” He whispered as he guided her down to engulf his erection. He caressed he behind and then held it firm as they synched their rhythms. It was a quick fury and both were spent. Christine listened to her Angel’s fast heartbeat as she calmed her own sprawled out on top of his body.

“I love you, Erik,” She whispered moving one of her hands so fingers twirled his tuffs of hair. “I love you.”

The Angel of Music gently caressed Christine’s back before resting his hand over her derriere and smiled.


	26. Pleasant Surprise

“You look pretty, Mama,” Charlotte sat on the couch of Christine’s dressing room and watched her mother apply her stage make up.

Christine smiled as she turned to look at her daughter, “As do you. All dressed up for opening night.”

Charlotte smoothed out her green dress, before raising her hand to her cheek.

“Now Charlotte, don’t touch it too much or it will smudge,” Christine caught her daughter out of the corner of her eye.

Charlotte lowered her hand and instead jumped off the couch and walked over to the full-length mirror. The Soprano had blended some of her stage make up over her daughter’s deformity and once again adjusted the ribbon her in her hair to cover the one on her scalp. Neither hid the marks completely but it was just enough to satisfy the child.

A knock at the door turned Charlotte’s head from the reflection of her cheek to it. When it opened to reveal The Phantom, she smiled.

“Dada!” She exclaimed. “Isn’t Mama pretty? Aren’t I pretty?”

He picked her up and noting the make-up, kissed her forehead, “Pretty as always!”

She kissed his exposed cheek and then tapped the mask with her finger.

Christine smiled as she watched father and daughter in the reflection of her mirror, “Are you nervous, Angel?”

“Why should I be? I know I’ve written yet another stellar opera. And this time I have willing producers and the same Soprano is willing to be the lead. And what about you?”

“I believe I already played Persephone to your Hades in my youth,” The Diva’s smile widened as she lifted the flower crown to her head.

“And you came back to be queen of my underworld.”

“What’s underworld?” Charlotte puzzled allowed.

“It’s the place your mother gets to be queen of in the opera tonight!”

Charlotte clapped her hands, “Does that make me princess of the underworld?”

“No,” Erik tapped his daughter’s nose. “You are the Young Mistress of Phantasma. And as such you must come with me to greet our patrons tonight.” He walked over to his wife and left a kiss on her cheek, “We shall see you after the show. Bonne chance, Angel.”

*******

There was something peculiar with how the pomegranate was set on the stage when Christine came out for her first scene with Hades. George had never sat it that close to her entrance during their rehearsals. Nerves, understandably. She picked it up and noted to fidget with it before it came time to act like eating the seeds as she started to sing her lines.

Staging had Persephone turned when Hades entered, but Christine only needed to hear the first couple of notes to know that it was not George on the stage with her. A loud gasp passed her lips as she dropped the pomegranate and character. She spun around, her Grecian Chiton a storm of fabric, and saw her husband in the Hades’ robe, wig and crown. He looked up to reveal that the false beard and wig hid a good deal of his deformities.

The next verse was forgotten as memories of a black hooded Don Juan and Piangi’s lifeless body swinging pushed them aside. “Erik, no,” she whispered, eyes wide, lip trembling.

The Phantom took a step back so Christine could see into the wings where George stood holding a candle. The man waved with his free hand. The conductor turned and looked at Christine from the pit. The Diva picked up the pomegranate and nodded at the conductor, who started at the beginning of her verse. As the curtain came down on their duet, Persephone found herself being carried in Hades arms as it was scripted.

Once in the wings, The Phantom sat her down but pulled her into his arms.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Christine exclaimed squirming against her husband. “You had to have known where my mind would go…actually you did and you were ready! How dare you do this to me again!”

“Christine, please!” Erik let go of her. “You know I’m no longer that man! Say you know I am no longer that man! This was supposed to be a delightful surprise. I wanted to perform this with you! Opening night of my new opera on my stage with the love of my life. I arranged it all with George!”

“And what about me?” Christine snapped. “ _Your_ opera! _Your_ stage! I am not just your soprano or your wife! I am a paid employee! Did you not think through how this would affect me? Or the other actors? For all the progress you have made you can still be so dense!” She fled down the walkway towards backstage.

“What did she mean by again?” George walked up to Erik. “Shall I prep for Act Two? Intermissions go by fast.”

“Not yet,” The Opera Ghost headed back stage after his wife.

“Christine!” Erik pushed open her dressing room door.

The Diva stood in her undergarments as her dresser hung the cream Chiton up and pulled a violet Chiton down.

“Christine, what are you doing?” Erik closed the door behind him.

“Getting ready for Act Two. Or do you not remember in your own damn opera Persephone has a costume change once she’s in the underworld?” The Diva watched her husband’s perplexed reaction in the mirror and laughed, “Did you really expect me to storm off in the middle of opening night?”

“Other opera divas have. And you do have an understudy.”

Once she was dressed, Christine sat down at her vanity and touched up her make up as the dresser smoothed out her hair, “Well other divas usually do not have as much invested in an opera as I do this. Are you going back on for Act Two?”

“Only if you want me to. George is standing by to get into costume.”

Christine turned and smiled at her dresser, “Anne, thank you but I need a moment alone with my husband.”

“Yes, Madame,” The girl left the room closing the door behind her.

“You really want to perform this with me?” She sat her lip rouge down.

“Yes, my Angel! I truly meant I wanted this to be a pleasant surprise. I wanted the world to hear our voices together, singing my work opening night,” Impassioned, Erik rested his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “What can I do to go back out on the stage with you?”

Christine Daae turned around in her chair and stood up. She wrapped her arms around her Hades, “You want to finish tonight as Hades? Remove the beard and push back the wig. Let them see your real face.”

Erik pulled and turned away from her, “Christine, do you know what you ask of me? The ridicule not only I, but we would be put through? The ruin brought on our friends and producers!”

“Those are the terms if you want to come back on the stage with me,” Christine stood firm. “If not George better be out there with me for Act Two, not you pulling another trick. Also remember our daughter is out there watching. Do you know what it would mean to her to see her Dada on stage exposing his deformity?”

The Opera Ghost closed his eyes, took a deep breath and balled his hands into fists, “That was cruel, Christine and you know it. You cannot possibly understand the guilt I live with, especially now that she realizes she’s different.”

He yanked open the dressing room door and stormed down the hall yelling, “George, get into costume! Madame is requesting your presence for Act Two!”

“Erik, you are being ridiculous!” Christine followed him out of the dressing room.

Other performers and crew grew silent and stopped all activity to focus complete attention on the marital theatrics right in front of them

“Am I? How am I supposed to react when you try to manipulate me with our daughter? I will see you at the after party where will give the illusion this never happened!” He opened the door to George’s dressing room and slammed it shut.

George, who was trotting down the hall, adverted his gaze from Christine as he reopened the door and closed it behind him.


	27. Exposed

Erik looked up from his seat on the dressing room couch when George entered.

“I’m not going out on stage, Sir,” George leaned back against the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. We have a contract for tonight; signed and everything. You are the one who wanted to do this. I can get work elsewhere; you are the one ruining your own opera.”

“She’s requesting the impossible of me, George! She wants me to go back on stage with my face exposed.”

The man laughed, “That’s not impossible, Mr. Y. Especially after everything else you two have been through. Is it really true she came back to you right before her wedding? And you left her in the morning; before she woke up? And yet she’s here with you now years later?”

Erik sighed, “I see we’ll never stop being a subject of gossip.”

“We all know she and music are your greatest loves…”

“I appreciate this but any unmasking has gone terribly wrong.”

“But if you walk out already that way. Let me see, Sir. I’ve seen your daughter plenty of times; she’s a smaller version of you, correct?”

The Phantom chuckled, “To an extent. Her issue is mild compared to mine. Why do you care so damn much if you can get work elsewhere?”

George lifted one of his hands and ran it through his black hair, “Your wife is a talented and kind woman. I enjoy working with her. And you, Sir are a musical genius. I can get work elsewhere but I would not be performing something so moving or so complex.”

The Phantom stood and took a deep breath as he lifted his hand to the beard, “Just don’t scream.”

*******

From the wings, Christine watched the Act Two opening ballet as the ballerinas in their fall nymph costumes twirled as Demeter with the rest of the small company sung of a mother’s lament for her daughter. She looked towards the audience and in the second row saw Gustave leaning into Charlotte’s ear as she pointed at something. Rose sat on his other side their hands curled around each other. Daisy on the other side of her daughter; she looked at their hands and seeing nothing else was happening returned her attention to the stage.

So much was made of a mother’s love, as shown in this opening number of Act Two. And now a mother herself, Christine knew she would wander to the ends of the earth looking for her children like Demeter…but what of a father’s love? Her other mother died when she was young. Her father was all she knew. He made sure they always had food, clothing and shelter as they traveled, nourished her soul with religion, music, stories, dancing. He promised her an Angel of Music when he died…and he kept that promise albeit took some twist and turns.

Her thoughts turned to her husband as she caught sight of Charlotte again. Parents were not supposed to have a favorite child, but Christine knew deep in her husband’s heart Charlotte would be the one he would save if could only save one of their children. And she was fine with that answer. Charlotte was turning out just like her, a daddy’s girl. But it was more than that, Erik loved all his children; but theirs was a bond based on a mutual understanding and unfortunately pain. Neither of these she could never comprehend or heal in either of them no matter how much she loved them.

Lost in these thoughts, The Diva was taken back when she noticed faces in the audience, gasping, furrowing eyebrows in bewilderment, or whispering to each other. Charlotte stood up on her chair, a smile on her face the instant the first note escaped from his mouth.

“Dada!” Christine could see her say in excitement as Gustave tried to pull her back down. The Diva turned to the stage and sure enough there was her husband in the Hades robe but missing both the beard and wig. She held her breath waiting for a greater audience reaction but then realized they might have thought his appearance was part of the show. However, his voice was never more beautiful. He was playing the King of the Underworld, but this was the first time she truly felt she was seeing her Angel of Music.

“Dada!” Charlotte exclaimed again still refusing to sit down.

Christine placed her hand over her mouth and giggled, just as Erik turned and met her gaze from the stage. It was almost time for her entrance. The Diva lowered her hand, smiled and nodded her head.

*******

“You did it! You actually did it!” They were barely into the wings of the stage when Christine expressed her excitement. She pushed him against the wall as set pieces and cast members moved past them for the next scene. Persephone ran her fingers down the deformed side of her Hades’ face, “I really didn’t believe you would do it. Did you see Charlotte? She was so excited!”

“You seem just as excited, Angel.”

“Quite in the wings!” The stage manager spat at them.

*******

As husband and wife held hands and stepped forward for another curtain call bow, the applause and roar of the audience brought tears to Erik’s eyes. Christine held his shaking hand tighter as they bowed for a third time before finally disappearing behind the lowering curtain. The rest of the cast erupted into applause and cheer around them.

Christine pulled Erik into her arms and felt his trembling body, “Oh Angel, what a triumph! Did you hear how they loved it?” She reached one of her hands up and wiped his tears.

“Tears of joy, Christine,” There was a hitch in his voice. “I went out there…not a single scream, yell…”

She did not need him to finish the sentence as she pulled him tight and kissed him.


	28. Wanting To Do This

“Dada! Dada! Dada!” Charlotte ran away from Gustave down the backstage hall.

“Charlotte wait!” The boy exclaimed closing stage door behind him while holding a bouquet of pink roses.

“I turned her in the right direction, Young Mister,” one of the stage hands gestured his head to the right.

“Thank you.” The Young Mister turned to see bodies parting to reveal a path for his sister to their parents.

“Dada!” Charlotte’s arms were stretched up and open.

“Charlotte, my little darling!” Erik bent down and pulled her into a tight embrace before lifting her up.

“You were on stage, singing with Mama! Without your mask! Everybody saw you!”

He chuckled as he spun around with her, “Yes they did! And what did you think?”

“Your clothes are funny,” the girl giggled.

“Brava, Mother!” Gustave finally appeared. He bowed to his mother presenting the roses.

“Oh Gustave! How beautiful, thank you!” Awkwardly holding the flowers, she pulled her son into a hug.

Upon seeing the pink roses, Charlotte stretched her hands out, “Dada gets flowers too!”

“Dada, gets none of the sort,” The Soprano walked up to her daughter in her husband’s arms and took ahold of one of her stretched out hands. “And did you enjoy the show?”

“Dada gets flowers!”

“Oh no, darling, all the flowers are for Mama,” Erik kissed Charlotte’s cheek, even with the make-up.

“No! Dada gets flowers! Dada gets flowers!” The girl squirmed and wiggled as tears poured down her cheeks. “Flowers, flowers…ahhhh!”

The moment her legs started kicking, Christine sighed and glared at her husband, “Erik.”

“Charlotte, stop!” He sat her back down.

“No Dada!” She cried and then continued to cry holding onto his leg.

“I believe she is tired,” ‘Demeter’ paused on her way to her dressing room. “He’s still spoiling her isn’t he, Christine?”

Christine nodded as she rolled her eyes.

“Her face in the audience tonight was worth it though,” ‘Demeter’ smiled at Erik. “We are all very proud of you, sir. See you at the party!”

Once she was gone attention return to Charlotte, who was quickly exhausting herself with her fit.

“Gustave, take your sister home,” The Phantom spoke.

“Why me?” The boy exclaimed. “I want to go to the party! Rose is going to be there!”

“And she will still be there once you take Charlotte home,” Erik patted his son’s head. “Mary is at home with Matilda so she will take care of Charlotte once you get her there. Now your mother and I need to change for the party.”

*******

Christine sat at her vanity every piece of her House of Worth evening gown in place. She smiled at her reflection as she held her hair up before letting it fall down.

There was a light knock at the door followed by Erik’s voice, “I am ready to see where my money went.”

“It’s open. And I believe it was my money that bought this dress,” Christine watched the door open in the mirror’s reflection.

Her husband appeared in his tux, his mask and wig in one hand.

“I am almost ready. I sent Anne home before I should have and now I cannot do a thing with my hair. Do you think I will be forgiven if I wear it down like I did in my youth?” She opened a drawer of her dressing table, “I have some lovely combs here somewhere.”

“I don’t think they will notice with that dress. Stand up, let me see,” He smiled.

Christine stood, her plum skirts rustling as she spun around to show off the whole dress and train. The Diva finally paused, fully absorbing her husband’s face, her eyes wide.

“Erik, Angel,” She rubbed his deformed cheek. “Are you going to put on your mask and wig?”

“No.” The word was firm but she saw fear in his eyes.

Concerned filled The Diva’s eyes, “Is this because of what I made you do?”

Erik kissed the top of his wife’s head, “I want to do this, Angel. They’ve already seen me on stage and it was freeing.”

“You don’t have to do this. I only asked for the stage because I was furious. I figured I would call your bluff and you would step away, but you proved me wrong.” She pulled him into an embrace and rested her head on his chest.

He ran his finger through her hair, “I said I want to. Going out on the stage without the mask and wig was so freeing. And then nobody screamed, booed or started a riot. They cheered for me, for us, for our glorious voices!”

She dug her nails into his shoulder blades, “Yes, but did they realize it was actually your face? I know some did but how many thought it was part of the show?”

The Phantom laughed, “Ah Christine do you really think they thought this was make-up?” He pulled away from her and sat his mask and wig on the top of her vanity. He picked up a comb and ran it through his thin natural hair.

The Soprano watched intently as her husband stared at his reflection, brushing his hair. Once he was finished, he sat the comb down, turned around and smiled at her, “How do I look?”

She forced a smile, “Handsome.”

He chuckled as he walked over and took her arm, “I’ll take the lie.”


	29. Unmasked

When The Phantom and Soprano entered the Phantasma’s hotel’s ballroom, the party was already underway. The electric lights were dim setting a tete-a-tete ambiance yet the small string orchestra played a lively waltz. Christine spotted Gustave dancing with Rose and leaned into her husband, “I am impressed with how swiftly he got Charlotte home.”

He placed a light kiss on her cheek, “Never underestimate the pull of the heart.”

“Just like his father,” Christine giggled placing her hand on her husband’s chest.

A few heads turned their way and Christine took a deep breath, “I believe we have been spotted.”

“What did you expect with that dress?”

She looked up at her husband. From the side she stood on, Christine could only see the good side of his face. _Is he hoping my dress is enough to distract from his face?_

The couple walked further into the room, a few more heads turned and there were some hushed whispers.

“I want to dance, Erik, come on,” Christine tugged her husband towards the dance floor.

“No, no, no, not yet,” Erik in his strength pulled her towards the refreshment table. “I believe some celebratory champagne is due first.”

When they got to the table the server looked at Erik and gasped, a bottle of champagne slipping from his hand. The glass crashing onto the wooden floor turned all the heads in the vicinity.

“It was an accident, no need to concern yourself,” Christine pulled away from her husband and addressed the people watching. She then addressed the server, “Another bottle, please. And get your co-workers to help you clean this up.”

The shaking man left his station swiftly. Christine turned around and saw her husband, eyes closed, his face twisted in anger as his fists squeezed tighter than she thought possible.

Voices swirled around them. “Is that really his face?” “I thought it was just stage theatrics?” “Is that the reason he wears a mask? What a tragedy that such an angelic voice must live in a damaged body.” “He’s such a genius though; let’s just put a stipulation that for any future donations he must stay behind the stage.”

“Yes, yes did you expect anything less of the owner of Phantasma?” Erik snapped. “I thought I could finally be myself at my own opening party!” A quick turn on his heels, he pushed past the gawking crowds and back out of the hotel; faster than Christine could keep up.

“Erik, please!” The Soprano called after him as her dress’s train billowed behind her through the hotel’s lobby.

“You were right, Christine! You were right!” In one frantic push the hotel’s doors opened and he was out in the warm summer night. “I am such a fucking fool! I really thought this meant something!”

“It did, Angel, it did,” she pulled him into a tight embrace. She felt his tears dripping into her hair.

“I do not know which is crueler the screams of revolt or the comments of pity I just heard.”

“What of the cheers as we took our bows? Charlotte’s face as she saw you on stage without your mask?”

“Papa? What’s wrong?” Gustave stood a few steps behind his embracing parents.

Erik let go of his wife and turned to see his son in the electric lights of Phantasma. A few paces behind him was Rose.

Gustave’s face sunk as he looked at his father, “Oh I understand now.” He threw his arms around him.

Rose slowly walked up to the family. “Mr. Y…” she spoke softly.

The Phantom looked up.

Rose swallowed and took a deep breath, “Your voice was magnificent tonight. Gustave told me the opera sounded completely different when you sung it with his mother and he was right. I cried, your voices soared to heaven and you could just feel the love. Your appearance doesn’t matter when there is that much beauty.”

Gustave let go of his father and both looked at the young lady. Erik smiled as he took Rose’s hand and brought it to his bloated lips. She flinched slightly but did not move.

“Thank you, young lady,” He let go of Rose’s hand after the light kiss.

Rose bundled her hands together behind her back and looked down at the sidewalk. Christine observed the girl’s body language. She knew first-hand the bravery Rose was showing right now. The fact that a fourteen-year-old girl could stand here while grown people gasped and whispered. She didn’t have to come out here, this was a family affair but her affection for Gustave extended to his family.

“You are very kind, Rose,” Christine spoke up. “We are so glad you enjoyed the show.”

The girl smiled, “Are you coming back to your party? I know my parents were looking forward to talking to both of you. And I know my mother would love to see your dress, Mrs. Y.”

Christine looked up at her husband and took his hands. Fear filled his eyes and she felt his shaking hands but he nodded.

“Gustave, why don’t you escort Rose to her parents and let them know we will be in to see them in a few minutes?” Christine smiled at her son.

The boy grinned as he offered his arm to his sweetheart and they walked back into the hotel.

Erik took a deep breath, “Hold me tight, Christine. I’m scared of how I will respond once I’m back in there.”

Christine let go of his hands and offered her arm, “I will not let go of you. You were brave enough to go out without your mask, be brave enough to not resort to the means you used to.”

With his free hand, The Phantom caressed her cheek, “I do not deserve you, Angel.”

“Yes, you do. Now let’s go.” The couple turned back to the hotel.


	30. Zebra

“This isn’t like you, Erik,” Christine was bundled in the blankets of their bed, one side of her georgette nightgown pulled away exposing her breast. Erik was wrapped in her arms gorging himself on her cream. “Where is the man who would be furious his daughter is still with the wet nurse while a grown man sucks at her mother’s teat?”

He pulled away, milk dripping down his chin, “If that grown man is me, then it doesn’t much matter. Can the celebration not spill into the morning?”

Christine giggled, “Someone goes one night without wearing his mask and suddenly celebrating doesn’t stop.”

The Phantom frowned, “You were the one who started it but you do not get to decide when I get to stop enjoying the ego boost I got from my bravery.” He crawled on top of her, “I could ravish you right in front of them all and they would still only see my face.”

“Let’s not test that shall we? But if the man who went back to his own party and didn’t mind the stares wants to ravish me this morning like he did when we got home last night…” The Diva took her husbands face into her hands and kissed him passionately. Hands and mouths were barely exploring when there was a knock on the door.

“Dada! Dada! Dada!”

Erik pulled away from Christine and put his finger over her lips. The Diva smiled and met his open mouth kiss and he leaned into her.

“Dada! Dada! Dada!”

Parents ignored their daughter for a few more minutes until Erik coaxed a gasp from Christine’s mouth when he hit a sensitive spot with his finger.

“Mama! Mama, tell Dada it’s important!” Charlotte cried from the other side as soon as she her mother’s voice.

“Charlotte, what is the matter?” Gustave’s voice was now also heard on the other side of the door.

“Dada’s not letting me in! It’s important!”

“Come, Charlotte, Mama and Papa will be down later. They are doing important parent things.”

“But I’m important parent things!”

“Yes, you are but there are other important parent things too like making us new brothers or sisters!” Gustave yelled towards the door.

Charlotte pounded both fits on the door “Mama, I don’t wanna new sister! Dada make her stop!”

Erik could not help but laugh, his erection already deflating. Christine crawled out from under her husband, adjusting her georgette nightgown before running to the door and opening it.

“Goodness, child!” Christine picked Charlotte up and held her tight. “There is no new sister…”

“What about a brother?”

“There are no new siblings. Sometimes Papa and Mama are just sleeping,” She carried the girl back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed situating her on her lap, “Gustave just has an active imagination. Isn’t that correct?” Christine looked up at her son who lingered in the doorway.

“I’m going back to bed, now that she has your attention,” Gustave turned around and went back to his room.

“Now, Charlotte, what is so important?” The Soprano untangled her daughter’s fine hair.

“Zebra! Dada promised me a zebra and I still don’t have it.”

Christine sighed, “Charlotte really? This is what you woke us up for?”

“Yes, Mama! Dada got you dress; I get zebra!”

“Oh darling,” Erik turned on his side laughing, “A zebra takes time. I can get you a toy one in the meantime.”

The girl’s face lit up as she crawled off her mother’s lap and cuddled herself right into her father’s arms, “I love you, Dada.” Her little fingers twirled around sparse locks of hair.

“Erik, you did not…” Christine turned and upon seeing the deformed faces snuggled up against each other cut herself off. Her face melted into a smile. Removing herself from the bed, she covered herself in her dressing robe and slipped on her slippers.

“I’m going to go relieve Mary and let her have the day off,”

Christine headed down the hall and found the wet nurse picking up piles of blocks off the floor.

“Mary, that is not your job,” Christine almost scolded the woman.

“You are talking to me, Madame and not the doll right?” The young woman laughed.

The Soprano joined her laugh, “Two maids named Mary and Charlotte’s doll. Perhaps I shall number everyone.” She lifted the baby from the crib. “Charlotte needs to learn to pick up her own blocks.”

“And who is going to teach her that? Your husband? She kept going on about how he is getting her a real zebra she will be able to ride like the one on the merry-go-round and now that you have your dress she needed to remind him. I really tried to keep her here.”

Christine adjusted Matilda in her arms as her brows furrowed, “Is that so? Queer how I am only learning about this zebra for the first time this morning.” The baby cooed and grabbed at her mother’s hair, “Oh what do you have there? Mama’s hair?” Matilda giggled as she stuck the hair in her mouth and sucked on it.

“I fed Matilda about an hour ago.”

“We greatly appreciate your extra service last night and your next paycheck will reflect it. I however want you to take today off.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Y. But before I go, may speak to you?” The woman cupped her hands together in front of her apron.

“Of course,” Christine smiled at Mary as she removed Matilda’s teething ring from the crib and stuck it in the baby’s mouth in place of her hair.

“I am with child and while you and Mr. Y have been the kindest couple I have nursed for, my husband wants me home when this child is born,” Mary voice choked.

“Oh, Mary!” Christine embraced the nurse as best she could holding Matilda. “While we will miss you, I am so joyed at your news of a new baby. May you finally be blessed…”

“Yes, yes we hope so,” Mary cut her off. “Thank you, Mrs. Y.”

“Now go, enjoy your day,” Christine carried her daughter back to the master bedroom and closed the door. Drool covered the front of Matilda’s night gown and now made a spot on her mother’s dressing robe as the baby bit on the teething ring.

The Diva sat down on the bed and looked at her other daughter and husband still cuddled under the covers. Charlotte dozed but Erik smiled as he hummed softly to his daughter.

“So when were you going to tell me about this zebra?” Christine wiped Matilda’s face with her robe’s sleeve.

“She’s asleep,” Erik whispered. “We can talk later.”

“No we can talk now. You can’t just keep doing this; especially without consulting me. She’s already becoming difficult; giving into her whims…”

The Phantom sighed, “You cannot keep saying she’s like her father and then call her difficult.”

“Erik, you know you’ve been difficult almost your whole life because you always gave into your whims,” The Diva snapped at her husband. “I don’t want Charlotte behaving the same way just because you feel the need to indulge her because you understand her pain.”

Matilda babbled through her teething ring, her free hand still grabbing at her mother’s hair.

Erik slowly and gently removed his arms from around Charlotte and sat up, completely meeting his wife’s gaze, “Have I not given Gustave everything since the moment I found out he was my son? Do you doubt what I have planned for Matilda? You know I want them to have what I was denied!”

“I know, Angel. But I also know your bond with Charlotte is stronger because of what you share.”

He looked down at the sleeping girl, eyes glassy with tears, and ghosted his fingers over her cheek, “I thought it was because she was a girl. Gustave was fine but then Matilda came and all she has is the birthmark.” He lifted his hand up and rubbed under the baby’s chin, where the port wine birthmark was.

Matilda giggled and instantly dropped her teething ring; preferring to wrap both her little hands around her father’s finger.

“I have no control over what my seed does in your womb and now to witness how much I can curse my child...I am so thankful for your womb veil.”

One arm wrapped around Matilda to keep her in place on her lap, Christine lifted the other to caress her husband’s deformed cheek, “Oh Angel, do not think in such a way. We are blessed. I am sure you noticed upon arriving to America, Gustave was the only child with us. I knew my womb wasn’t the issue; even more so now. But at the time, it was a point of frustration since Raoul came from a large family. But as other trouble grew the fact that he at least had a male heir was enough.”

Matilda pulled forward and sucked on her father’s finger, a string of drool running down from his finger to her nightgown. Erik laughed as he lifted his other hand as he ruffled her hair. “Oh I know we are fortunate in our family, but I am still working on getting through the guilt.”

“And you can start by realizing we don’t need a zebra.”

“But I have plans to get her trained to ride it and do tricks. I want her to have her own show someday here at Phantasma.”

“So you want her to gawked at like you were?”

“How can you assume such a thing? I want her to at least choose something that makes her happy; something in which she can control how people look at her.” Erik turned his head and looked back at the sleeping child, “We both know the world isn’t going to be kind to her, Christine. It is already happening. Phantasma should be her sanctuary; they should be lining up to see her ride and perform…”

“And what if she just wants a pet zebra? What if she has no interest in performing tricks? What if she wants to be an opera singer like her mother?” Christine smiled sheepishly at her husband.

“Or an architect like her father. Have you seen her latest block creations?”

“I have and she needs to learn to pick up after herself,” Christine pulled her husband’s finger out of Matilda’s mouth and wiped the baby’s face off with her dressing robe sleeve before returning the teething ring. “She’s cannot even clean up blocks; she couldn’t even feed a cat, let alone help care for a zebra.”

Charlotte stirred, stretching her hands over her head as she yawned. The girl rolled so she was laying on her back looking up at both her parents, “What was this about my zebra?”

That very instant Matilda tossed her teething ring at Charlotte, the silver handle hitting the girl on the cheek. Charlotte threw both her hands over it, rolling into a ball on her side and started crying. The baby giggled and clapped her hands.

“That’s not funny, Matilda!” Charlotte cried. “Dada make her stop!”

“Charlotte, you know she didn’t mean it,” Christine sighed. She handed Matilda to Erik as she stood. “Come on, let’s get ready for the day. I will let you take a bath with my rose soap.”

Erik arched his good eyebrow at his wife with a smirk. The Diva bit her lip and looked away knowing she was indulging Charlotte just like him.

The girl pushed the covers off and jumped out of the bed, “Your rose soap? The pink one?”

“Yes, the one you love. Go head to your washroom and I will meet you there.”

Charlotte was swiftly to the door, opening it and running down the hall, “Rose soap and zebra!”

“I don’t want to hear a word from you!” Christine smiled pointing at her husband before heading into their washroom and grabbing a bar of her rose soap and leaving the room.

“Alright Matilda what shall we do for the time…” The Phantom stopped; his nose curling as a foul odor filled the air. Matilda had gone silent and still but now pulled at the hem of her nightgown as her father quickly felt extra warmth and now a squish where she sat on his lap. He lifted her into his arms as gently as he could while exiting the bed, “I guess you decided how we shall pass the time. I cannot believe your mother gave the nurse the whole day off. It’s been a while since I’ve changed a diaper, I hope I do not make this worse.”


	31. Accounting

Sunlight streaked through library’s open windows warming Christine’s face and wire rim glasses as she wrote out the list of household expenses for the new month. She sat down her fountain pen, picking up a pencil to do some addition on a separate notepad.

A gust of ocean air rustled her papers under their paperweights. When she heard a giggle, she spun her chair to see Matilda awoke from her nap. Charlotte had abandoned her city of blocks and was now on the blanket beside her sister, holding Matilda’s hands in her hands, she covered the baby’s face with them only to remove them and make a funny face at the baby. Every time she did this, Matilda giggled.

Christine laughed as she removed her glasses, “She also enjoys if you do that to yourself as well.”

“Did I like when I was baby?”

“Yes, as did your brother. It seems to be a game all babies enjoy.”

The sound of the front door opening and closing ended the game of peek-a-boo for Charlotte. “Dada!” a blur of blue darted out the door and down the hall. Matilda’s laughs turned to whimpers.

“Dada, you have to play peek-a-boo with Matilda! It’s so…” The girl returned to the library, dragging her father by the hand behind her. She stopped when she saw the crying baby in her mother’s arms.

“Don’t cry, Matilda!” Charlotte let go of her father’s hand and ran up to her mother, “I’m back.” Christine bent at the knees so Charlotte could be face to face with the baby.

Charlotte put her hands over her face and then quickly removed them. Matilda continued to fuss. Charlotte did it a few more times in rapid succession and the baby stopped crying but did not laugh.

Charlotte frowned, “She’s not doing it anymore. Mama said I liked it too when I was baby.”

“Yes, yes you did.”

“Charlotte, please go clean up your blocks and take them back up to your room,” Christine stood fully back up, adjusting Matilda so she rested against her shoulder.

“You’re home early,” Christine sat back down. She put her glasses back on with hand. “Where’s Gustave?”

“He still has one more afternoon show. But everything was going smooth, I wasn’t needed. I thought I would come early and spend the afternoon with all the wonderful ladies in my life,” Erik took Matilda from Christine and she instantly put her little hands on his mask. “However, I see you are still occupied.”

“My blocks are almost put away!” Charlotte called from across the room.

The Diva smiled at the idea that Charlotte thought Erik was talking to her. She looked up at her husband, “Perhaps you can assist. We barely broke even this month. What is happening?”

Erik took a deep breath and looked over at Charlotte. Her blue dress rustled as she walked around picking up the final blocks before returning to the case. He watched intensely as she found them their place and closed it.

“Charlotte, please stay up in your room when you return your blocks. I will come get you soon,” he smiled at her.

Charlotte walked up to him, her dress still rustling, carrying the case of blocks like luggage, “You’re still wearing your mask, Dada.”

He sighed, “Yes I am. I will remove when I am up there.”

“But you are home now.”

“I know and I promise I will take it off when I am up there,” The Phantom rubbed her deformed cheek.

“But…”

“Not another word!”

Christine looked down; she knew the voice. Oh how she had wanted Erik to be firmer with Charlotte but where was he going to go?

Her mother’s doe eyes expanded to her hairline, “Yes, Dada.”

Matilda still in her father’s arms did not respond to the boom of his voice. His lapel was too interesting a texture to not stop chewing on. Once Charlotte had exited, Erik sat down on the seatee and looked resolutely at his wife.

“We are fine, Angel. We barely broke even this month because we are repaying our producers for the new opera. We also have three children now, a few more servants around the house and theatre.”

He saw the fine lines on her brow wrinkle. Fine lines she should not have so early; fine lines put there from financial worry from another time. Christine balled her skirt into her fists, “Mary will be leaving us now though. That should give us more money. And where are our part of the profits? We have been sold out every night we perform.”

“You know our surplus earnings come once we are closed for the season. And it’s going to look a little different this season because of the opera. Investments take time. We are going to be fine”

“Raoul said that just a few months before he asked me to start singing again. And I’m already singing now. Where is the money, Erik?”

She might have just as well stabbed him but he did not show it. He was not going to show it. Kissing Matilda’s cheek as he stood, he walked back up to his wife. One arm tight around the baby, his other hand removed a ring of keys from his pants pocket.

Christine looked down at her skirt as he dropped them on top of her notebooks, their metal thud jarring.

“You know where my office is in the theatre. The second smallest key on there unlocks the desk drawers. Phantasma’s accounting books are in the bottom drawer. Please lock up everything when you leave. I will be upstairs with our daughters.” Erik exited the library and walked up the stairs singing to Matilda the whole time.


	32. Fireworks

The Fourth of July was one of Phantasma’s busiest days. The boardwalk bustled with extra people out to celebrate America’s birth by playing carnival games, enjoying a thrill on the rides or taking in the sights of side shows. While all the evening shows were canceled, members of the brass section of the orchestra played American patriotic songs on the boardwalk. The beach was also full of people taking advantage of the warm sand and cool water.

Christine Daae sat next to her dear friend Daisy Jones in the swan on the Carousel. Thanks to Erik, the zebra was now right in front of it and Charlotte held it tight not giving her mother a second thought.

“You would never know you two are immigrants from the Fourth of July celebration Phantasma has,” Daisy took her friend’s hand into hers.

“We are just grateful for everything our adopted country has given us; a second chance at love, at building a family, at building a life with theatre and music.”

“Christine, this is a carnival, not a theatre. You’ve only begun to build respectable theatre.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Daisy,” Christine gestured her free arm out. “All of this is theatre for Erik. He was paraded as a circus freak as a teenage boy. Treated terribly. He returned to those roots as the quickest way to earn money here in America but he also wanted control. If you’re a performer you get to play a part, maintain your dignity. Boris isn’t really Russian; it’s a character he plays. Yes, he’s that strong but he’s really from Mississippi.”

“And what about you and your husband?”

Christine chuckled, “You’ve seen him without his mask. He’s really that deformed. But he’s not the enigmatic Mr. Y he led everyone to believe. He’s an intelligent man who spent so much of his life denied love and human interaction he still fears everyone, myself included, is going to hurt him someday.”

The Carousel started to slow and Charlotte turned around, “Again, Mama?”

The Diva sighed and smiled, “One more time.”

The girl smiled and turned back around.

Daisy squeezed her friend’s hand, “You still didn’t tell me about yourself.”

Christine adjusted her hat, “And what about me? I spent ten years with my ex-husband living a lie. I only perform now on the stage.”

“I would say you perform for crowds. That House of Worth of dress was quite the statement. Ada doesn’t even have a dress from his collection.”

The Soprano’s cheeks redden as she looked away from her friend.

Daisy giggled, “Oh dear have I embarrassed extraordinary Christine Daae?”

Christine touched her hot cheeks with her cool hand, “It’s not so much embarrassed…” she sighed and leaned in close to her friend, “I bought that dress with my own money…but now I see we are financially tight and I feel guilty.”

Daisy’s eyes widened as she let out an uneasy giggle, “What in heaven do you mean? Has Erik not shown you what the opera has brought in? He’s paid us back along with interest. And Rose tells me every time she goes to Gustave’s show it is a full house.”

“You manage your house, Daisy. You know when your books barely break even…” Christine smoothed her skirt. “Or you would. I am worried he’s keeping something from me. Raoul drank and gambled everything away, I cannot…”

“Christine,” Daisy took her friend’s hands into her and looked deep into her eyes. “Erik is not drinking or gambling.”

“But then if we do have all this money what is he hiding from me?”

“A surprise maybe? What did he say when you asked?”

“He gave me his keys and told me I could go look at Phantasma’s books if I wanted to. I didn’t look because I felt like a guilty child after he handed me the keys. If he was really hiding something he wouldn’t offered to let me see the books.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No. I left his keys where he sat them and when I went back in there they were gone. We haven’t spoke about this since.”

“Maybe you should ask him tonight if it is really this disconcerting for you.”

The Carousel again slowed down and when it came to is jarring stop, Christine stood and exited the swan. “Come on, Charlotte,” She walked up beside the zebra and extended her arms.

“One more time?”

“No, I said that was the last. Come on.”

“Please, Mama!”

“No. We have to get ready for the firework show.”

Daisy walked up beside Christine and smiled at Charlotte, “Your father puts on the best fireworks you don’t want to miss it.”

“Don’t be rude, Charlotte,” Christine lifted the girl off of the zebra.

“I was not rude,” Charlotte held onto her mother’s shoulder as the women walked off the ride.

“Why are we going this way, Christine?” Daisy watched as people walked the opposite direction they were going.

The Diva smiled, “Private party. The view from the top hotel suite is astonishing.” 

*******

Several of the guests were already drinking and mingling when the two women and girl entered. It was their trusted inner circle: a few fellow actors, performers who had been with Erik from day one of Phantasma, The Mr. Jones and his sister and brother-in-law because they had convinced them produce and they never said anything about Erik appearance. Someone on the brother-in-law’s side lost their nose to syphilis and knew first-hand about cruelty.

“Daisy, there you are!” Mr. Jones approached his wife with an additional champagne glass. After a soft kiss, he handed it to her. “Come you must see the view. You can see almost all of Brooklyn if you look this direction.”

Daisy removed her hat and handed it to Christine as he wrapped his free hand around her waist he guided her away.

Daisy turned and smiled at Christine as she walked away. The Diva removed her hat and sat both down on the table by the door. She then looked down to see Charlotte was already winding around trousers and skirts looking for her father.

“Dada!” She exclaimed arms up when she found him.

“Darling!” He exclaimed sitting his glass down before bending down to pick her up.

“You’re not wearing your mask! But we’re not home,” She touched his cheek.

“I know, but we are among friends who will not say anything.”

Her doe eyes examined the room before embracing her Dada tight.

“And did you have fun today?”

“Mama only let me ride the zebra three times,” Charlotte squeezed her eyes and stuck her tongue out.

“What she fails to mention is I allowed Boris to carry her around and we went into The Fantastique Hall of Mirrors,” Christine walked up and tapped her daughter on the head. “I even let her lead us and pretended not to know where the illusions where so we were in there a long time.”

Charlotte giggled, “Mrs. Jones walked into a mirror.”

Christine smiled, “She did.”

The suite’s door opened and Sarah stormed in, “Mother, I caught Rose and Gustave kissing in the Hall of Mirrors! And Edgar did nothing to help!”

Edgar was the Jones’ oldest child; nineteen years old, he had just returned from a year abroad in Europe.

“Passion is fleeting, Sarah. You take it when it is raw! Rose and Gustave are just beginning to understand.” The young man ran his fingers through his long brown locks before flinging himself onto the couch. “How you could you leave Paris, Mr. and Mrs. Y? New York is so pedantic after it.”

Mr. Jones groaned under his breath, “We should have never sent him abroad.”

Gustave and Rose finally walked in, holding hands. However, Rose was clearly blushing and would not look anyone in the room.

Erik adjusted Charlotte in his arms, “Darling, why don’t you spend the evening with your brother and his friend Rose. He is to watch you the rest of the night, no questions.”

The girl raised her hand to her father’s mouth but he quickly stole it away and kissed it instead. “I said no questions. And that means no questions from him either. You tell if he asks questions I will see to it that he has no more dates with Rose the rest of the season, even chaperoned ones.”

“What’s chaperoned?” The girl’s good eyebrow arched.

“Your brother will know,” He bent down and sat her back down on the floor.

Charlotte ran off, her green dress fluttering. “Gustave, no questions or you get no chaperone!”

Husband and wife chuckled as they watched her reach her brother and Rose who now had Edgar sitting between them.

“Fall will come soon enough and he will be writing her letters from the all boys school,” Erik smiled as he shook his head.

“School?” Christine perked up. “Will that be cheaper than the tutor?”

“Probably not but he’s well past the age where he needs to be interacting with his peers. We both agreed he needs to be socialized completely different from how we were.”

The Soprano’s blue eyes looked around the room as she took a deep breath as she took her husband’s hand, “May I have a word with you in private?”

Erik took a sip of his champagne, “Now? It’s getting dark, the fireworks are going to start soon.”

“If I can have your attention!” Christine spoke up, using her theatre voice. Several people turned towards her. “I need to a moment with Mr. Y so if you could please talk amongst yourselves and enjoy the fireworks when they start. You will find the windows lovely, but the balcony can hold everyone if you wish to go out.”

Christine headed into the hotel suite’s bedroom, holding the door open for her husband. Erik sighed before following her in. She closed and locked it behind them.

“Did you need to make a damn spectacle?” Erik removed his jacket and tossed it on the bed. “We’re supposed to be celebrating the birth of our adopted country and you’re hysterical about Gustave going to school in the fall. And now they are out there awkward!”

“I’m the one making a spectacle?” Christine paced back and forth. “If that’s a spectacle what did we call everything you did in the Opera House?”

In one swift motion he grabbed her by her upper arm and pulled her close to him, “Out with it, Christine.”

“Where is the money, Erik?” She splayed her free hand on his chest. “Where is it? Daisy informed me you’ve already paid them back with interest. And that Gustave’s show is sold out. I don’t want to be ruined by another man I love!” She buried her face in his chest, feeling the tears running down her cheeks.

Bewildered, Erik let go of her arm and pulled her tight to his body. He repeatedly kissed her head, “Oh it’s still about this? I thought you looked at Phantasma’s books.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to,” She wrapped her arms around her husband and caressed his back. “You just gave me your keys; open and honest as if you had nothing to hide. I felt like a guilty child.”

“So why didn’t you look? You would see the money is all there, I have just been saving it back.”

She looked back up into his eyes, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was angry you didn’t trust me. That you would really believe I would leave you destitute like he did,” The Phantom bent his head so his deformed cheek rested against her hair. “Yes, I’ve left us a little thin right now but for a good reason…it’s a surprise.”

Christine rubbed his back faster, “Erik, what kind of surprise? This is our life, our family; we need that money!”

“Don’t be so nervous, Angel,” He smiled large. “This surprise is for our life, our family, for us. I cannot wait to share it with you.”

Christine closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She then felt her husband’s fingers on her cheek, slowly trailing down her throat, “You trust me to make the right decision for our family, right Angel? Please say you do.”

_…he’s not the enigmatic Mr. Y he led everyone to believe. He’s an intelligent man who spent so much of his life denied love and human interaction he still fears everyone, myself included, is going to hurt him someday._

Christine’s own description of the old Phantom of the Opera haunted her in this moment. She opened her blue doe eyes, filled with teas and smiled, “I do. I love you; Erik and I trust you.” She pulled him to her and kissed him feverishly.

After a minute, he finally pulled away, “Shall we return? The fireworks will be starting any minute now.”

“Not yet,” She nuzzled his neck before kissing it and then moving up and kissing his jawline.

“Christine! There are guests on the other side of that door!” He gripped her wrists and removed her hands from the front of his trousers.

“That’s never stopped us in my dressing room,” She inched closer to the bed, pulling him with her.

“That’s different, they were not expecting us…” The Diva interrupted him with a kiss.

A few seconds later, a loud explosion sounded followed by a spread of white light in the sky.

Startled husband and wife jumped and jerked away from each other.

“They’re starting!” Sarah was heard exclaiming from the other side of the door.

As more noise filled the evening sky, Phantom and Soprano chuckled.

“I guess we have a few stolen minutes now,” Erik resumed his passionate kiss, tongue slipping past her lips, fingers trespassing over the thin linen of her summer gown. This time he did not stop his wife from palming the front of his cotton trousers. A deep throat groan vibrated from his mouth to hers in response.

They were washed in colors from the fireworks as Christine sat down on the edge of the bed. She made quick work of the buttons on The Phantom’s fly, pushing the fabric aside so she could pull his erection though.

“This isn’t going to work with that damned bustle,” In one swift motion, Mr. Y grabbed his wife’s wrists and spun her around so she was belly down bent over the edge of the bed. “These damn petticoats and wires!” His words barely audible to her over the fireworks. Once they were past her waist he bent over and whispered in her ear, “I see you’re wearing those pretty pantalettes again. I make no promises now.”

Christine spread her thighs wider while raising her derriere. She sighed into the duvet as Mr. Y teased her by rubbing the tip of his manhood up down womanhood before circling it a few times on that most pleasurable spot. Then in one guided thrust he was deep in her and wasted no time with a quick passionate love making session. One hand on her waist to keep the layers of dress up, the other on that bud; he pushed swift, deep and hard.

Christine bit her lip to suppress her moans even though all sounds were drowned out by the fireworks spectacular.

Cries of excitement came from the other side of the door along with other words.

“Dada and Mama are missing it.”

“I’m sure they are watching it, Charlotte. Your Mama had something very important to talk about with your Dada.”

“I’m close, Angel,” The Diva panted.

The Phantom rubbed her pleasure mound faster and harder until he felt her womanhood pulse around him. He groaned as he grabbed the base of his member and withdrew just in time to spurt his seed into the left thigh of her pantalettes. He collapsed onto the bed beside her, the deformed side of his face looking at her.

“You owe me new pantalettes, mister,” Christine gasped for breath.

“Better those than another child,” He too breathed heavy as he smiled at her. He lifted one of his hands and stroked her exposed cheek. “I suggest we wait till the fireworks are over to rejoin the party.”


	33. Surprises

“Isn’t she beautiful, Mama?” Charlotte exclaimed perched a top a zebra. Erik walked in front of her holding the reigns guiding the animal down the empty boardwalk. Worst of all she was not even riding side saddle.

“Erik, you did not!” Christine lifted her skirts and ran to her husband and daughter. “This better not be your surprise!”

Mr. Y laughed, “Oh no! This is Charlotte’s surprise! Well, she will also be part of one of Phantasma’s newest attractions for next season! Zebra drawn carriage rides to and from the train station to Phantasma’s gate!”

“You bought more than one?!” Christine closed her eyes and sighed to calm herself down, “And you thought bringing in the zebras five days after we closed for the season was the best idea? Why not wait till before the start of next season? Now we have to board them for the winter.”

“I cannot control when they were ready.”

“You lie.”

He smirked, “I do, but look how happy she is. And they will need some training. They have pulled carriages before but they can be a bit insolent.”

“Mama, come pet her!”

Christine smiled at her daughter as she walked over to stand beside her. She raised her hand and stroked the zebra’s mane. The Diva laughed as the animal shook its ears.

“Her name is Belle because she’s going to be pretty when I get ribbons in her hair!” Charlotte leaned forward, resting her body against zebra’s neck, wrapping her arms around it.

“Do you really think Belle will like ribbons?” Christine rubbed the zebra’s head.

“Yes, because she loves me and I love ribbons,” The girl sat back up. “Dada, back to the stables.” 

“Is Gustave at the stables?”

“No, he’s in the theatre getting his automatons ready for storage.”

The Diva caressed the exposed side of her husband’s face, “Well I guess I will go help him with that and let you two deal with the zebras.”

*******

It was two weeks into Phantasma being closed for the season, but Mr. Y was still barely home. Closing the park for the season had never taken this long. Most of his workers had already secured plans to travel with Ringling Brothers to warmer destinations during the winter. Others took jobs in the city, while others still made enough money to take the winter off.

For the second day in a row, Erik left early and it was now past supper and he was still not home. Christine sat on the floor of the nursery helping Charlotte build a large stable with her blocks for all her new toy zebras. Matilda laid on her stomach on her blanket, babbling as she chewed on her stuffed elephant.

“Mother, do we have any stamps?” Gustave walked into the nursery an envelope in his hand.

Christine smiled at her son, “A letter for Rose already?”

“It’s been two weeks with no scheduled events to be seen, Mother! I do not know how father spent ten years away from you! What if she returns to Jonathan!” The boy slouched against the doorway and sunk down to the floor.

“Gustave, you being idiot,” Charlotte tied a white ribbon around the neck of one of the wooden zebras. She then placed it in one of stalls. “Rose gave you locket of her hair. Said she love you.”

“Charlotte, no!” Gustave exclaimed. “How can you do such a thing! That was our secret!”

“Gustave!” Christine chided. “She’s doesn’t understand the repercussions of what she just said.”

Charlotte giggled.

“Not so!” Gustave sat up on his knees. “Look at her laughing! She’s a little brat!”

“I not a brat!” The girl crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Are too!”

“I not a brat, people just mean!” The girl now picked up a block and tossed it at her brother hitting him in the shoulder.

“Hey!” he exclaimed. “What was that for? I’ve done nothing but love you, play with you and protect you since you were born! And you’re just going to throw blocks at me? You’re mean too, Charlotte.” With that Gustave stood up and stormed out of the nursery.

The girl’s deformed face dropped before crinkling in on itself crying. “Gustave, no!” She jumped to her feet kicking over parts of the stable. Some of them went flying into her mother’s lap. “Gustave, no! I’m not mean! I sorry!” She ran out of the nursery and down the hall chasing after him. “Gustave!”

Christine rubbed her forehead before looking over at Matilda. There were blocks on her blanket, but she remained blissfully unaware still chewing on the elephant now partially saturated with drool. “Are you sure you’re our child?”

*******

When she felt the bed shift in the morning, Christine turned and grabbed her husband’s arm.

“Where are you going? The sun isn’t even up yet,” her voice sultry. “And you returned home so late last night.”

Erik turned to face his wife, “I know, Angel.”

“The park is closed, what else can you possibly be doing?” She pulled him close to her body, “Stay.” An amorous kiss sealed her plea. She caressed his face, tugged on his distended lower lip with her teeth as she worked her tongue into his mouth. She traced the shape of his body with her hand, spreading it wide across his behind.

The Phantom breathed in through his mouth as he pulled away, “Angel, I recall you are on your menses.”

“If you’d been home more, you would know it has been over for a couple of days,” She rested her forehead against his, smiling large.

The Phantom chuckled, “So this is what this is really about? I have left you aching?”

“I would say more vexed and our children need you,” She ran her fingers through the sparse grey locks of his hair. “You need to talk with Gustave. Rose gave him a lock of her hair and he’s already writing her love letters.”

“And what do you expect me to tell him, my dear Christine?” He rested his head on her shoulder. “You’re going about this the incorrectly, son. What you really need to do is write her an opera about your base desires for her.”

She tugged his hair, “No! I mean maybe we should have another discussion on human anatomy and babies.”

“Because my dear Gustave ignore that you were born from illicit love now that you are old enough to understand society finds that disgraceful. But just for your mother; the wanton vixen!”

She slapped his chest as she gasped, “You are being ridiculous, Erik!”

“I believe you are, Angel. You informed me you are vexed and the children miss me from my being gone over my taking care of a final few things. However, I can only solve one of those right now.” He nibbled at her neck and as she giggled, he untied the drawstring bow of the neckline of her nightgown.

“Quiet, you do not want to wake, Matilda, you wanton vixen” He gently palmed her peaked nipple, feeling just a little bit of milk seep out. He lowered his mouth to her breast and latched on.

She now dug her nails into his behind, bunching up his nightshirt. The Phantom’s fingers slid up The Soprano’s nightgown, tapping her thighs, running each finger down in a soft stroke as his hand crept up higher. The Diva closed her eyes, panting as she rested her head on his shoulder. 

Erik pulled away from her breast, cream dripping down his chin, “Ahh no panalettes! You were waiting for me last night and I let you down.”

“Then quit talking and make up for it now,” She pushed his hand into her moist womanhood. He traced their petals, collecting their nectar before gently circling the sensitive bud.

As she moaned, The Phantom collected her lips into his bloated ones to silence her. She squirmed and withered under his touch as he pushed her off the edge of her paroxysm.

“Erik...” She pulled away from his kiss, pulling on his bottom lip.

“Ahh Christine!” He moved his hands to his waist spinning her onto her belly while bunching her nightgown up past her waist.

Christine breathlessly giggled as she propped herself up on her knees and elbows. Holding the base of his throbbing member he pushed into her wet warmth. She met her Angel’s thrusts by pushing back into them and tightening around his erection. The Diva reached another paroxysm hasty, moaning loud.

“Yes, sing for me!” The Phantom groaned. He pushed in and out of her trembling womanhood a couple more times before withdrawing. A few quick strokes and Erik’s seed puddled onto the bed between Christine’s legs. Large breaths of relief escaped through his grinning bloated lips as he sank back down beside his wife.

Christine returned to a resting position but after a few seconds her eyes widened and she gasped.

“It is okay, I withdrew,” He lifted his hand and caressed her cheek.

The concern melted from her face. She closed her eyes and sighed, “Thank you, Angel. Come here.” She pulled him into an embrace. After their heartbeats and breathing returns to normal, Erik pulled away and got out of bed.

“Erik!” Christine exclaimed, “You’re not supposed to leave.”

He turned on the oil lamp on his night stand, “I am not. I am going to draw us a bath so we can get cleaned up and ready for a day in the city.”

“Erik,” Her voice was firm. “I refuse to have you do something just because…”

“Check the closet for your new walking dress. I would be honored if you wore it. Mary is coming early today so you do not need to worry about Matilda’s morning feeding,” He turned and disappeared into the water closet.

*******

Erik opened the carriage’s door stepping out into the street before turning around and helping Christine out. “Please watch your step. I got your new dress without a train on purpose but the streets are dirty.”

Christine sighed as she stepped down, one hand in her husband’s the other holding her new blue dress up so high it exposed all of her mid-thigh boots, “Angel, you are being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He nodded towards the carriage’s horse who was shitting onto the street.

Linking her arm with her husband’s Christine rolled her eyes, “You act as if you never lived in a city. So lead me away from the foulness.”

Erik lead his wife a few buildings down and then up the stairs: _Smithfield School for Boys_. He turned the bell and smiled at his wife, “Once you talk to the Dean and Headmaster and see inside, I think you will agree this is best school for Gustave.”

“What do you mean best school?” Christine’s doe eyes widened.

“I have narrowed it down to three, but together we need to make the final decision,” The smile on The Phantom’s face was wide.

“I don’t understand…” Christine gripped her husband’s arm tighter.

“This is what I have been doing with some of my early mornings. It’s part of my surprise for you.”

“Gustave’s school choice?”

At that moment the door opened.

*******

Back in the carriage, Erik took his wife’s hand, “Now that we’ve visited all three schools, what is your opinion? Which one do you think is the best fit for our Gustave?”

“You were correct in saying Smithfield was the best but there is a problem; they do not have a dormitory. We would be better finding Gustave a school in Brooklyn than Manhattan.”

He chuckled, “That is where you are wrong, Angel.” He leaned to look out the window. “And soon you will know why.”

When the carriage came to a stop, Christine looked out the window. They were back in the same neighborhood of the first school.

“Are you about to show me Smithfield School for Boy’s secret dormitory they did not mention?”

Mr. Y smiled large, “You could say that.” Escorting his wife out of the carriage, they walked a few doors down stopping in front of a brick townhouse. “Well we are here. Your surprise! The one I’ve been sneaking off for the past couple of weeks.”

The Diva arched an eyebrow as she looked at the house and then looked at her husband.

Erik reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a key. He gently placed it in his wife’s hand. “Go open the door.”

Blue eyes wide, her hands shook, “Erik, what are you talking about? I am not going to go open other people’s houses!”

“Nor would I suggest you do. I am not that man anymore. However, it would be such a shame if all that money I put aside and saved to buy us a winter home in Manhattan was wasted because you didn’t believe it was our house.”

“Erik!”

He smirked, “If you want to keep spending winter lonely and isolated on Coney Island you can. I will bring the children and we will stay here.”

The Soprano darted up the cement stairs and put the key in the lock. It turned and the door opened. The afternoon sun poured through the windows, lighting up the parlor.

“Oh my Lord,” she whispered as she walked in. She ran her hand over the green velvet couch before walking over to a desk against the wall.

“For Gustave to work on his homework and studies,” Mr. Y stood in the open doorway. “It’s about a thirty-minute walk to the school from here. And to call on Daisy is no longer a day trip.”

“Is this what you have been working on since Phantasma closed for the season, Angel?” Christine walked up to him tears in her eyes.

He nodded wide grin on his face, “Yes and honestly before. This is what I’ve been putting all our money back for. But these past couple weeks I’ve been making sure all the furniture has been delivered and ready for us to move into for the winter. When it was just me living year-round at Phantasma was fine. But these past couple years, and especially this season, made me realize it’s not fair to keep my family out there isolated when it’s not season. You have friends and our children need proper education and socialization.”

“But what about you?” She took his hands into hers. “How will you work with your workshop out there?”

“If need be I will go out there and spend a weekend. However,” he closed the front door before taking her hand and leading her down the hall and into another room, “I plan on focusing on music while here.”

The room was smaller than their current music room but was cozy and seemed to also act as a library. There was a baby grand piano, book cases, a couple of chairs, music stands.

“Come, there’s so much more to show you,” Mr. Y took his wife’s hand to continue the tour. He lead her upstairs, his bloated lips ear to ear, or she was sure if the mask wasn’t hiding the other side.

He opened the door closest to the landing, “Gustave’s bedroom. I wanted him furthest from the master.”

The Diva giggled but barely had time to process as he opened another door, “I have this currently set up for Charlotte and Matilda to share and it’s connected to the other room which will be for play.” Erik opened the other room to reveal a dollhouse, a table, a nice plush Turkish rug on the floor, a chest.

“There are not too many toys in the chest. I figured Charlotte will be insistent on bringing what she already has.”

Christine leaned her head against his arm, “You know her all too well.”

“And now, the master bedroom,” he took her hand and led her down the hall to the last door. “Go ahead, open it.”

She gave a smirk to her husband as her free hand turned the handle. Once open she let go of him and walked in. “Oh Erik, it’s so cozy!”

He rushed into the room, “Is that a bad thing? I know it’s smaller than our current bedroom but it’s a townhouse…”

“No, it’s lovely. It’s intimate, no bassinet; it’s back to just you and me,” She stroked the duvet as she walked over to him.

“So…is…is this okay? You’re not angry I planned this without your input?”

“Oh Erik,” The Diva sighed tears in her eyes. She lifted her hand to his mask and removed it. She caressed his cheek, “I’m overwhelmed. You did this, all this on your own. You did it selflessly for our family.” She reached up and passionately kissed him, wrapping her hands around his wigged head.

He pulled her tight against his body, deepening their kiss. When he pulled away, he did have an ear to ear smile on his face, “We can start moving in tomorrow. Gustave will start school next week.”

Christine dropped the mask onto the wood floor and took her husband’s hands, “If that is the case, I think we should use our time here right now alone to…” She smiled sheepishly and bit her lower lip.

“To what, Angel?” He arched his eyebrows.

She slowly walked backwards leading him towards the bed, “Christen this bed as husband and wife.”

“You brazen vixen!” Mr. Y exclaimed pushing her down onto the bed.

Both laughed as she sank into the mattress and he landed on top of her.

“I hear no objection,” She giggled again as she reached up and held his face.

“And you will not. Christine, I love you,” Erik caressed her neck as he leaned down and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone who has continued to read this Phic as I have published chapters, everyone who discovered it along the way and everyone who is going to read it. I very much love "Love Never Dies" and these characters and I hope this came through. I also enjoyed mixing in my original characters with them and continuing to character build and grow the characters that weren't mine. I would really appreciate it if you would leave comments on any of the chapters you liked; even if it's just "wow!" or "OMG LOVED IT!"


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